Doctor Aphra

So far, so good, Aphra thinks. It could've gone smoother, and she's going to have to do something to get back in Tolvan's good graces (maybe), but on the whole, this part of the overall job has been a success. Maybe that luck will continue on to the next parts, but she's not really willing to bet on that. Syndulla is currently safely stashed away on-board, but that woman has probably gotten out of worse scrapes, so this next part needs to get done very fast.

She clears her throat, sitting up straight in the pilot's seat and cracking her neck before keying on the comms.

Here's hoping her smirk shows up clearly in her voice.

"Hivebase-1, come in."

This is going to be fun.

Being done with your post-vacuum-of-space bacta treatments seems like a good reason for a drink. Even if she's not supposed to – what's the worst that could really happen? Triple Zero could use her drunkenness to try to mutiny. She'll just make sure she stays here. That's easy enough.

Of course, drinking alone isn't really any better than not drinking at all, which is why Aphra has taken out of her bag the cracked, weathered pieces of an ancient seeker droid. Probably over a thousand years old, these practically littered Takodana. No one bothered picking them up after the battle the Jedi'd fought there. Which means it's worth nothing. But after two glasses of Corellian ale, it's looking like her best option for not drinking alone is to build herself a friend.

Which means the actual worst case scenario is that she'll end up building a murderdroid and forget about it in the morning.

Whether she's considered that or not, she's halfway through her third glass and sifting through the wreck of the ancient little droid.