Unfortunately for Martin, Boba is not actually a great metric for safe, wholesome behavior. That said, as Boba gets out of the driver’s seat and walks around to the passenger’s side, even he feels the slight misgiving that maybe, just maybe this isn’t a great idea. Piloting vehicles has always been literal child’s play to him; his father had taught him how to pilot Slave I when he was half Martin’s age. But there’s no guarantee Martin will learn as fast as he did or have the same instincts. So Boba stops halfway to the passenger’s side and gives Martin an appraising look through the front windshield—

Before seemingly coming to a conclusion and walking back to the driver’s seat.

“Move over,” he says, not unkindly. When Martin obliges, he’ll squeeze into the driver’s seat next to him and rest a foot on the brake pedal. He even takes the extra precaution of strapping a seatbelt across them.

“I’ll stop you if you’re about to get us killed,” he says, almost offhandedly. “Now, you have to move the lever so it’s next to ‘D’ instead of ‘P.’”