Log:First Order: Jakku. /You/ know

Jakku. /You/ know.

Location: Finalizer: Recreation Room
Participants: Emma Starflare, Finn, First Order

There is lots of movement. The raid has just come back. Successful, if you could say that. Troopers move around the ship like busy ants in a well trained colony. But one ant appears to be a little haphazard. It's little antennas wobble, it's feet stick out awkwardly... well, they would. But FN-2187 is no ant. He is staggering a bit and breathing heavily. He moves to the edge of the rec room where some storage lockers are located for convenience. FN-2187 stumbles across them, his hand moving frantically as his fingers hit each locker pad with a 'tap tap tap'. "Where is it?" he hisses, eyes squeezing at each identical locker.

Em-1710 hadn't been in the raid. That simply wasn't an operation that required the Dark-Trooper sniper's talents. Currently out of her uniform, the woman was in her black body-glove worn underneath the armor and in her hands she was working away at her sniper rifle, cleaning it yet again. FN-2187's arrival has her looking up, frowning a little and tilting her head. "Are you alright?"

FN-2187 is still glued to the row of lockers as he walks in a hobbled fashion. His head jerks back and forth, snapping to the ID engraved in each one. No no no no. No-- wait! "There!" FN-2187 croaks, stopping short and grabbing at the smooth surface of Locker 0033. His hands shake as her works at the combo pad, the locker door sliding up with a hiss. He's stuffing it in when he hears a voice behind him. Eight-Seven turns, slowly, staring at EM-1710 with a hollowed, fuzzy look in his eyes.

"Did you get injured?" the blonde woman asks, clarifying her words. EM-1710, or 'Em' as her squad had come to call her tilts her head to the side, frowning a little at the look on the man's face. She'd seen similar expressions before, but only on the face of the troopers she'd rescued from the Trandoshan PoW's last year. "What went on down there?"

"I.." FN-2187 says, taking in a short breath. He blinks at her and seems to willfully shake himself out of it. "No," the trooper decides with a deep frown. "I'm fine." FN-2187 pushes his hand to his chest, letting his fingers splay. His eyes bug out just a bit and he pushes his back against the locker. "It was fine. Easy. Just got a lot of sand in my lungs," he insists with a cough. "Jakku. /You/ know." But he's twitchy and nervous as he gives her a weak, oddly unhinged smile.

"You should leave your helmet on then," EM-1710 comments, although the blonde woman's piecing gaze makes it pretty clear she doesn't believe the man. "It filters out sand and smoke fairly well." Turning another piece of her weapon over, the sniper continues her cleaning quietly and almost ritualistically. She may well be able to do it blind-folded at this point. "Have you been in a combat engagement before?" she asks lightly, continuing her work. "I was trained on Starkiller base before my simulation scores for marksmanship got me attached to the Finalizer as a sharpshooter. But my first combat operation was against a group of terrorists in a stronghold. I was there to provide overwatch when the hostiles emerged in speeders and attempted to flank my team."

It's all listed off slowly, almost methodically like a mission report. When EM had been a cadet and a trooper on starkiller, she was as 'by-the-book' as troopers came. Experience had taken its own toll on the otherwise young woman. "There is a difference between target simulations and live combat."

"Guess the filter is broken," The trooper 'hehs' out. Eight-Seven looks nervous as the sniper trooper talks. His shoulder pushes up against the open locker and he tosses two uneasy glances back at it. "Uh huh," he mumbles and bites down on his bottom lip while he sporadically nods. "Great, yeah that's-- that's great," FN-2187 chirps as he pushes up to the balls of his feet. "Well!" he half turns, reaching in and grabbing something inside. It's a fast snatch, hard to see what the object of desire is. "Thanks. Um..." but whatever FN-2187 is about to reply he just glances to the side and scrambles away.

"FN," Em calls, after all she'd worked alongside the rookie trooper before in training. "There's a difference between being good at something, and it being easy." Had she seen the card? She certainly doesn't speak of it even if her hand goes towards his own for a moment. "You have to have a reason to keep you going, even if that reason is as simple as the soldiers under your protection." With that, the blonde woman brushes a bang out of her eyes and then moves to fix her scope onto the frame. "Good luck in finding your own."

FN-2187 stops, well... hobble-halts. The trooper blinks at what she says and a smile... more genuine that his other but a little more strange, too, pulls onto his face. He turns to face her halfway. "Yeah," Eight-Seven agrees after a thoughtful pause. Where he was, the locker times out and shuts. The rifle and other secrets vanishing. FN-2187 looks back from it to Em. "Yeah. You're right." And this time he's actually gone. Pushing past a fee troopers on their way in.