[ Rex would not call himself a paranoid man. A prepared man, perhaps, a pragmatic man, a perfectly practical man. But when he goes step outside for a moment and sees a hunched figure on his rooftop, his first assumption isn't that the figure is a flier who's stopped for a rest, or that he's a robber, or that he's a hundred different distinctly nefarious things. He doesn't even consider that perhaps someone isn't too happy with a Republic Clone hanging around and would prefer that he be considerably intimidated by their opposing forces.
No. The first thing he thinks is: Ah. Someone's here to kill Martin. ]
You there! Hands in the air, now!
[ He only unholsters a single blaster to point at the man for one reason and one reason only: because he's busied himself with running directly at the side of the building, busying himself with beginning to use the other hand to scale up a pipe running up the side of the house, because like hell is he going to let someone else terrorize Martin. No. If this goes sideways, he's hunting the damn thing himself, even if he has to climb up the walls to do it. ]
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No. The first thing he thinks is: Ah. Someone's here to kill Martin. ]
You there! Hands in the air, now!
[ He only unholsters a single blaster to point at the man for one reason and one reason only: because he's busied himself with running directly at the side of the building, busying himself with beginning to use the other hand to scale up a pipe running up the side of the house, because like hell is he going to let someone else terrorize Martin. No. If this goes sideways, he's hunting the damn thing himself, even if he has to climb up the walls to do it. ]