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WHO: Poe Dameron and you!
WHERE: The streets of Nonah, and then his house, #005
WHEN: Now
WHAT: Freshly Imported and trying to figure out what is going on
WARNINGS: Likely idiocy.

1. THE STREETS

The welcome party, such as it was, left a lot to be desired. Poe was used to having to just run with whatever crazy situation he landed in, but usually he landed in the same universe, at least. He'd listened to the pep talk (had said something to make her chuckle, though he couldn't remember for the life of him what it had been), been given the file (another sarcastic remark, probably about hoping they didn't look too deep into his service records), and then simply seen out. Out, into the bizarre new world, through a porter that a) made absolutely no sense and b) was incredibly disorienting. He said something to the assistant about how he'd rather just fly, next time.

He didn't look too hard at the tattoo on his wrist. Not until he was 'home', and even then, he wasn't going to take a good look unless he was sure he was alone and un-monitored. Just go with it, his instinct told him, and he listened. Didn't argue, didn't fight, just went where they told him to. Who knew who they really were and just who he would be endangering if he resisted. He needed information, first. So he could wait.

He got the feeling he was going to be doing a lot of waiting.

Nonah felt both oddly familiar and completely alien at the same time. Like walking through the Republic homeworlds if they were all a lot shorter and a lot older, and for some reason only allowed humans. He couldn't help but wander around looking like a tourist. It didn't help that he was wearing a bright orange flight suit complete with a puffy white vest. Everyone seemed to speak Basic, at least - or so he thought until he reminded himself about the whole... language... thing.

It was a lot to get his head around, and a lot easier to just not try to get his head around it. Yet, anyway. He walked down the streets, flipping through his folder and weaving past people before they bumped into him (or he bumped into them). A few seemed to smile and wave at him, and in politeness, he did the same back, offering them a grin, before continuing his walking and reading.

No one was trying to kill him, so - that was a plus.

"I can fly anything," He read aloud, before smirking. "Don't see a lot of ships around here though, do I, buddy?" It was said to BB-8, but BB-8 was not there, so instead the question just sort of hung in the air without the helpful sound of whistles and chirps of agreement later. He tried not to let that get to him, and kept reading.

"Huh. So when they say anything, they mean - anything. What, do they expect me to stand on a bantha and start flapping my arms?"

2. THE PARK

It wasn't a bantha. Instead, it ended up being a park bench, with Poe seated rather ungracefully at one end, gripping the arm rest, as it zoomed around the park about four feet off the ground. He tried not to hit anything, or anyone, but apparently being able to fly something did not mean being able to fly it well....

"Watch out!"

3. HOME AT LAST...?

After a few misadventures and the helpful guidance of a lovely old woman, Poe finally managed to make it to his 'house'. The brick townhouse didn't look like any building he'd ever seen, but beggars really couldn't be choosers, and he needed a place to crash. He folded up the now-tattered file under his arm and went up the steps, unlocking the door and stepping through into the foyer.

"Hey - anyone here?"

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This is Han.

This is Han enjoying a nice, relaxing break from ferrying passengers from one place to another and cleaning out the backseat.

This is Han enjoying a nice cup of coffee, and a hot dog, and not really paying any attention to his surroundings, basking instead in the relative peace of this moment.

And because this is Han Solo, it does not last very long, because he hears something that sounds vaguely like something zooming straight towards him, and about a second later, he hears the scream.

He dives out of the way, spilling his coffee and losing his hot dog in the process. It's a tragedy, really, he'd only been just about to take a bite out of his hot dog when he heard the—wait a moment is that a park bench. Stars, how is the park bench flying like a starfighter? More importantly how does he get on it.

Or—yeah, okay, maybe getting on it is not the best idea. Instead he shouts, "Hey, flyboy! Slow down! You owe me a hot dog!"

You could try throwing yourself at the ground and missing, sir.

[ Skeets was in Nonah on various errends, mostly boredom, when he happened to overhear a man talking to himself. Plus, he said "buddy" and Booster calls Skeets buddy sometimes and Skeets had A Feel so he wants to help this guy out. ]

Did you just get imported?

That was Poe.

That was Poe banking hard with a park bench to miss the man with the hot dog, and then plowing the bench into the grass and leaving a very long torn streak of dirt along behind him.

This is Poe laughing as he stumbled of a crashed bench, now less of a bench than it was before, and dusting himself off, before offering the stranger an apologetic grin and a wave. "Sorry about that!"

He jogged over. "You alright? It handles surprisingly well, for a bench, but that really isn't saying much."

[He turned the the voice, and though there was a split second of surprise, the predominant expression that he offered was one of relief.

Sure, it wasn't a droid he'd ever seen before, but it was a droid. And that meant something was like home.]

I think I tried that enough when I was eight for a life time. [A grin.] And yeah. That obvious? [He spread his arms helplessly. It was, of course, that obvious.]

"Then I'm guessing you don't have any wings."

The voice was a little unusual; raspy, accented, even slightly metallic. The figure it was coming from was slim, tall - a bit over six feet - and wearing an outfit that would have fit in well during the Wild West. The wide-brimmed hat partially obscured the face but crimson eyes could be glimpsed and the face and skin were definitely alien, not human. Poe may even recognise the species of Duros, even if he didn't know the bounty hunter by name. Although it was possible he had heard of Cad Bane's legendary reputation during the Clone Wars.

While he could transform into a human form courtesy of his arrival here, lately he'd opted not to use it. While humans were the most common seen around here, people generally weren't so freaked out by the odd alien or two around. Some imPorts were very unique. To Poe, it might be more normal though, if perhaps unexpected in this situation.

Said hot dog is now lying, forlorn, somewhere in the dirt. Han might be grieving it and his coffee a little, he'd been looking forward to that snack all morning and through all the passengers he'd dealt with.

He gets to his feet, stares at the crashed remains of the bench. How did that happen, he wonders. "Generally, benches don't start flying around at all, so yeah, it's not much," he says, dusting his pants off. There's a pair of Corellian bloodstripes there, if Poe were to look. "Now I gotta get another cup of coffee. Thanks, buddy."

Apparently it's possible to cram that much sarcasm into one word. Who knew.

"I'd watch that." Anakin separated himself from the shadows, cutting quite a figure, though his lightsaber was not, as yet, drawn, "Can you really fly anything or are they over-exaggerating?"

He liked to think he could fly anything - except maybe a bantha. Then again, with the right wings and propulsion...

Poor bantha. While he waited for an answer, Anakin looked over this new arrival, sensing...something. A connection? His galaxy was a big place. This man could come from it - and if he did, he needed to know him - at least casually.

Edited 2017-07-07 05:34 (UTC)

One NPC had the counterproductive reaction of staring at the bench rather than ducking it. The PC nearby launched himself over and tackled the NPC to the ground, throwing an arm over their shoulders and shielding their head, keeping them from decapitation as the bench flew over.

Not that the PC didn't have similarly suicidal reflexes at times…

Barely checking to make sure the NPC was uninjured (yes) and unupset (check back later…?), Cassian—why?!—threw out his arm again, this time upwards.

He managed to grab the crossbeam connecting the bench's… hind? …legs.

He was instantly yanked along in its wake.

He wasn't sure what his aim was either… caught somewhere between trying to swing himself onto the bench itself, slow down its momentum (not a bit), and ski along in its wake without colliding with anything shin-to-crotch-high.

This seems to be one of those instances where you act first and try to understand afterward…

Edited 2017-07-07 10:08 (UTC)

"You won't find any ships to fly around here," chimed in Lando, who was leaning against a nearby wall, reading a newspaper. He folds up his paper and pushes off the wall to follow the man who's dressed like a rebel pilot. Seems like a guy worth knowing.

"Gotta say, though. Flying anything isn't the most useless power I've heard of." That would probably be his spontaneous facial hair generation ability.

Meetra didn't need to be told twice. The war was long over, but some instincts never died, and moving when someone yelled watch out? That was near the top of the list. She pivoted on one foot, just making enough way for the-

Man on a flying bench. Okay that was a new one.

She shook off the strangeness (mostly, she'd be puzzling over that one for a while) enough to follow instinct number two: neutralize the public danger. Both hands came up and, calling on the Force, she tried to hold the apparently out of control bench sill before it barreled into a less agile pedestrian.

You know what's unfortunate? Being on a flying park bench you can't control hurtling towards a pedestrian. You know what's worse? When that pedestrian, on prompted to run, yelps and turns into a thirty foot tall robot.

Poe ends up flying through Riptide's legs as he yells in alarm, hopping from foot to foot.

"What?! What the hell?!"

Poe had grown up on endless stories of the Galactic War on the Empire - but those stories didn't continue through to the Clone Wars with any clarity. There were too many stories that were far too real to his family, and those were the ones he cared about. Too much about the Clone Wars lay in the mists of time.

That being said, he knew a Duros when he saw one.

He'd turned his head to the voice and stopped, just for a second. Really, they didn't look much alike - the stranger's face was bluer, drawn tight, as if it was chiselled rather than gently shaped. He was as different from L'ulo as Poe was from General Organa - but it didn't seem to matter. He wasn't expecting it.

"Not the last time I checked," He admitted, trying not to look as surprised as he was, but the surprise was quickly turning to relief. He wasn't as far from home as he thought. So the smile that was slowly growing on his lips was genuine, despite the stranger's hat casting a dark shadow.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, I have to admit. Here I was worried that there was nothing but humans on this rock."

If there was any figure that one could cut that would immediately bring a child-like grin to Poe's face, it was that one - the windblown, layered robes of a jedi. Sure, not exactly like he knew - Luke had a bit of a different motif, when Poe was a child - but that was still definitely a Jedi.

He didn't need the force to sense a connection.

He saw it.

"I can fly anything that flies," Poe replied, with his usual absolute confidence and bravado, but then he waved his file. "And quite a bit more, now, apparently."

He saw Cassian just at the last minute, before he felt the sudden weight of an extra human on the back of the bench drag it sharply to the ground. He swore under his breath and pulled back hard, the bench making a disconcerting creaking sound as it launched up into the sky, dragging its two passengers up off the ground, and barely missing the canopy of a tree.

One they were high up enough that Poe was no longer worried about running into a building, he wrapped his leg tightly around the legs of the bench, twisted himself and reached backward to grab Cassian's arm.

"You alright, Buddy?" He called over the sound of the wind. "I got you!"

"Yeah, I'm getting that impression," Poe replied to the stranger, giving an amused, lopsided smile.

"This whole 'powers' thing is throwing me for a bit of a loop, though. It's like having a weirdly specific part of the Force, I guess. Sorry. Something from back home." It was an easy assumption - after all, Lando was human, so expecting most of the people that approached him to be natives fascinated by imports was an easy thing to assume. It had already been happening all evening.

"You get to see a lot of them?"

Poe wasn't exactly used to flying a bench, but he was used to flying. And he was very used to the fact that once in motion, it took a bit to suddenly not be in motion. You know. Physics.

This, this was not physics. This was Poe and his make-shift vehicle halted jarringly and suddenly mid-flight, mid-air, and -- well, no, that just about covered it. He threw out his arms instinctively to keep his balance, expecting the sudden stop to turn into a plummet, but it didn't. Nothing happened. He just - hung there.

"What the--"

An almost identical cry had left Poe's lips when the person he'd been trying to get out of the way suddenly was no longer a person. Suddenly, they were - a droid. A really, really, really big droid.

He took a hard turn, skidding to a stop without actually destroying anything (somehow), and then whipped his head around to take in the sight, his lips slightly agape.

"Woah." And then, as he climbed off the bench, and started to job towards the droid, "Woah. You, uh - you alright, buddy?"

"Sorry," Poe said again, though the grin belied just how sorry he was, which - now that he saw the stranger wasn't hurt - wasn't that much at all. His eyes kept drifting down to Han's pantleg, his head tilting just a little bit as he noticed the bloodstripes, but that could mean a lot of things.

He was in a new world, after all. Maybe they meant something different, here.

That being said - There was something awful familiar about both the man and the sarcasm before him. He could have sworn he knew him, only he knew he didn't, at the same time. It was hard to shake.

"Coffee, huh. Well, let me get you another one, then." If it was in a cup, at least, he could probably do that. Right? He didn't need to know what coffee was to do that. "I was just taking her for a test run. Not a lot of clear space in uh - this place." A grin. "But you are alright?"

"You never know here, do you," Bane continued about the wings. "They do things to people here. Make them what they're not."

He tilted his head, regarding the pilot critically for a moment. There was no smile in return. His response was neither friendly nor overtly unfriendly. Most humans didn't have experience with aliens, he'd found out since his arrival last month. Maybe this was another from the galaxy Bane knew.

"So there are not only humans where you're from?"

Poe didn't seem bothered by the fact that Bane didn't smile back - he was pretty used to it, all things considered - and it didn't lessen his at all.

"Yeah, you could say that," Just a little sarcasm. "It's been a hell of a long time since I've been to Duros, but it's kind of hard not to recognise you guys." Just a flicker of hesitation behind his eyes, but the smile didn't waver.

"And here I worried it was just me. But you must be from the Republic, too."

The ground shakes as Riptide stumbles, trying to get his balance and not fall on anyone.

"I-- yeah, I'm fine! What the-- was that a bench?! Am I still drunk?! What!"

Poe puts out his hands, as if he could catch the giant droid if he stumbled, which - while noble, maybe, is a bit stupid.

"A bench, yeah. Sorry about that, I was just giving it a try. You uh - You weren't this tall a second ago--"

Riptide shakes his head rapidly like he's trying to get something out of his non-existent hair.

"I, uh... it's my power. This is what I usually am but I got the ability to turn into a human for... convenience, I guess."

A pause. Riptide pops a squat in front of Poe, watching him.

"That bench thing... was that your power?"

"Think that's my line."

The man and bench don't suddenly plummet to the Earth, but she does attempt to slowly lower them both. The Force was still rusty, maintained use was going to wear her down fast, but she'd rather the bench didn't go shooting forward again when she let go. So she was ready, just in case, the grab it again if he tried to...take off? Or whatever. Then go home for a long meditation nap.

"Flying a little low, hot shot."

He raised his hands in the air, as sure a sign as anything to say 'Yeah, I'll let you take over', and waited until the bench was safely back on the ground. After a glance to her, he slowly climbed out of it, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Yeah. Turns out that benches aren't the most easily manoeuvrable ships in the world, who would have thought." Have a little lopsided grin. "Sorry, but that - Did you do that? The only time I've ever seen a trick like that --"

Well, he didn't really want to think about it.

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