[ Poe Dameron strides across the hangar with confidence, out of uniform barring his flight helmet, cradled to his chest. He wouldn’t normally be so careful, given the scrapes the helmet has survived (and helped him survive), but it’s carrying fragile cargo at present. Four tribbles vibrate contentedly in the repurposed gear — wait, no, five . Huh, he could have sworn he only found four.

An orange and white droid, BB-8, rolls alongside him, burbling binary. ]

— BLEEEP BRRRO BLEEP

Oh, come on, you know I’m not gonna replace with a bit of fluff.

[ The main upside to indoor combat is that you normally see trouble before you find it: spotting it rounding a corner, approaching the one of two ways possible in a corridor.

This time, Poe hears the trouble before he clocks it, noting the familiar crunch of metal as the creature pierces the bulkhead. On instinct, he swivels, drawing his blaster during the turn. He aims for the chest, only to hesitate. A shock of red fabric hangs off sickening skin, loosely wrapped around the neck of the beast, catching his eye. It flutters as the creature hurls forward. For a second too long, Poe thinks only of the fabric. Did it eat his coworker, or is it — Belatedly, he fires, catching the — is that a shoulder, technically? Was that a shoulder? The creature shrieks, regardless, stumbling back. Behind Poe’s legs, BB-8 whirs and beeps at a high pitch, rolling away.

Outrunning something over a foot taller than her seems unlikely. Outmaneuvering something more feral than familiar will be easier, surely. ]

You should have called in sick. [ No response. The creature lunges, and Poe dives in time for it to skewer the bulkhead again, instead of his flesh. The droid exhales a burst of concerned binary. ]

[ in his X-Wing, boxing at the training center, hanging out with BB-8, etc. ]