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Aɴᴅ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴡᴀʏ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ, ꜱᴏ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ
I'ʟʟ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ꜱʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ
⚙ Tink(er) || CT-8724
⚙ Clone Trooper OC
⚙ Additional Info Below
Eagerly, the trooper hopped off the grub, more than happy to get his own feet back on the ground.
The phrase "willing to talk" had forced a small smile out of Tink. Words neither he nor anyone else would ever use to describe him. But he was trying, despite his quiet nature.--
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His lifted his hand to run his fingers through the tangles in his damp curls, expression darkening slightly as his thoughts drifted.
"M'not sure what else needed to be said."
The soldier turned his gaze down to his muddy boots, opting to distract himself by kicking off--
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Tink raised a brow. Clearly she wasn't talking about the game on her pad.
"That so?"
He wouldn't press further. It wasn't his business.
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Tink hands over the datapad with a hum, a bit of curiosity in his eyes.
"Best not to lose it. Seems...important."
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"...........This yours?"
He gestures to the pad in his hand. It may or may not have the title screen of some cute island game displayed.
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Tink found the rain to be a bit of an annoyance, much like the rest of the planet. He was more concerned with how long it would take to rid his gear of the layers of muck that had steadily been building.
The mention of the machine shop reminded him of drier and cleaner times.--
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"Coincidence?"
There were plenty of soldiers that Wolffe could have picked to drag along for this task, but the humor of being randomly found again wasn't lost on Tink.
"Or a knack for finding me?"
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