"Damn this story to hell." Nicoll sat at her computer, idly tap-tapping the keyboard. Before her sat an unfinished story involving the members of Rogue Squadron, the nefarious group of pilots from that Galaxy Far, Far Away.
It seemed that, for some reason or another, the GFFA-pilot guinea pigs, er, objects of affection, which lived in her head, were hiding. Not a single one was present to tell her what to do and she was really starting to get grumpy. She sighed heavily and began to re-read the first bit of the story hoping something would inspire her enough to continue the tale.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
"What the - " startled, Nicoll pulled back the curtain far enough for her to see the person at the door. All she could see was the back of a blond head, as the person was facing away from her. The short hair waved wildly in the wind and Nicoll watched as the person pulled their jacket closer around them.
Letting the blinds fall back into place, she got up off her butt and walked down the hall to the front door. She paused briefly to compose herself before throwing back the bolt. She never got a chance to open the door, however, for as soon as it was unlocked, the figure burst into the house, closed the door and slid the bolt home.
"Sithspit, it’s cold out there!" The warm voice of a male echoed slightly in the entranceway.
Nicoll blinked as she peeled herself away from the wall and took a good look at her visitor: He was currently pulling off his jacket, the well-worn brown leather housing warm looking fleece. Over the left breast sat a familiar looking insignia, that of the Rebel Alliance logo with twelve X-wings flying away from it.
An incredulous Nic watched as the man walked around the corner, opened the hall closet and hung up his jacket. How did he know where the closet was? He returned shortly and gave Nicoll a sly grin.
"Sorry I’m late. I would have been here sooner, but I was tied up at the airport. It seems that they have no facilities for X-wings in this town. And let’s not get started on the public transportation system - "
"Um…do I know you?" Nicoll swallowed hard as her eyes played over the blue-eyed, mournful gaze of the now-obvious pilot before her. He was wearing black boots, black form-fitting trousers, and a white short-sleeved tunic. A shoulder holster housed his blaster. Surely this couldn’t be…could it?
"You should," he said with a frown. "Unless I have the wrong house? Please tell me I didn’t just walk into the wrong house."
"That depends," Nicoll said, taking a step towards the pilot. "What are you here for?"
"Inspiration." He smiled shyly. "You are Nicoll, aren’t you?"
"Who wants to know?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Major Derek “Hobbie” Klivian, at your service." He bowed, hand over his heart.
"Then I would be Nicoll…"
"Well then, shall we get started?" He offered his arm in escort and gestured to the rest of the house.
"Yes, let’s." Hooking her arm through his, she led the way into the other room. "I’ve been waiting for some inspiration for a very, very long time…"
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