Balls and chains are for pens at the bank, and he's never seen a pen that looked like it could survive a level three nuclear holocaust.
Classes being disregarded, sinister genius and enthralled assistant wait for morning.
Eve has always been older and wiser.
None of this makes any sense, really. Jim's barely laid a hand on her, if he doesn't count the occasional hand-up over difficult terrain, or accidental (mostly accidental) groping when an explosion throws his bridge crew around, and Jim doesn't count that, because if he counted that he'd be at third base with Keenser by now.
"It's Karen," she says hopelessly in the middle of his doorway like he wouldn't know her a thousand other ways. The whiff of perfume on her, Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb trapped underneath a thick smear of booze, or the sound of her shoes on the hard tile floor. She's drunk already; her breathing is faint and thready. Her face is too hot.
So maybe Matt signed up for this, but Foggy sure didn't — this thing that's eating his friend alive. Matt's back is to the wall, and Foggy is very very close, daring Matt to hit him maybe or wanting the scene to dissolve into something else — into Matt's arm snaked through his, maybe. Something from before.
**
Matt's just there to pick up his things, and Foggy's about ready to wrap their collaboration up for good. Things go a little sideways for both of them.
Finn, a war hero and a Senator for the stormtroopers settled on Kef Bir, experiences an assassination attempt. The Senate, furious at Finn for insisting on stormtroopers' right to self-determination, assigns him a convict who's had his ability to access the Force stolen from him: Kylo Ren.
Then shit really starts getting weird.
His secrets were collateral. They were a contract, a promise that he would not go back on his word. Her flesh, his soul: when she knew things that not even the King knew, things that could ruin him, they became equal.
If he cannot ask, if he cannot even bring himself to, to say, I want this of you, then how can he expect Sui Zhou to answer? Sui Zhou is a man of fewer words than he is motions, but talking is an act that most often transcends tactility in its clarity.