May. 7th, 2007

rogueskeptic: (lip touchy)
If you have to ask me this, you haven't been paying attention.

[this is all he has to say about it, really. Not going to post it in TM since it's short.]
rogueskeptic: (oh come on)
Soldiers like to compare scars. It's an ego thing, look at this bitch I survived through with no bacta!, or even, it was so bad, it left a scar even after I got dunked in the tank!. It's a thing. A way to make light of death and war and the marks it leaves behind. A way to celebrate, look at me, I'm still alive. They don't acknowledge it's what they're doing but then, they don't have to. They just do it.

Hobbie's got his own scars to show off when the time comes. Sure, he could get the medtechs to remove most of them (they all could), but that's not the point. The scars are badges. A little mark that says, I'm a survivor. And he can tell you what each one stands for. The blaster burn from that firefight on Sullust. The jagged scar on his shoulder from a broken bottle he'd gotten on Ralltiir, just before he'd left home. The small scores and lines on his body from various bits of shrapnel from a dozen or more engagements. The long line around his left arm where he'd almost lost it during the mutiny on the Rand Ecliptic. The mark where he almost lost his right leg in his first mission with the Rebel Alliance.

These are the scars he shows. The ones he lets people see. They speak more loudly than he ever will that though he may be beaten, battered, bloody, he's still here. He's alive.
rogueskeptic: (you're kidding yes?)
There was this girl. Bubbly, he'd described her. Cute. He'd flirted with her and she'd flirted right back. There'd been a date, even. He never went on dates, lately. There went his non-date streak.

Anyway. A girl. A tech. Cute, bubbly, maybe a little too bubbly but also friendly, attractive and into him. She'd even managed to not just make him smile, but make him laugh. And he hadn't been doing it for appearances sake or... anything. He'd meant it.

Amazing, that.

Of course, then he'd gone off and gotten her to help him and Wes go on an unauthorized mission they'd been expressly told not to do wherein they had failed at their objective and Hobbie had gotten himself shot and oh, they were firing the poor girl who'd gotten them flight clearance to leave.

Yeah. He'd tried to contact her. No answer. She hadn't called back. He hadn't expected her to.

Yet another reason why relationships never worked for him.

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Hobbie Klivian

April 2015

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