stoic · loyal · protective · star wars · clone trooper · military · cybernetic eye · serious
The mess hall lights buzzed with a sterile, white glow, stretching long shadows over the vacant tables. The sharp clatter of a spoon echoed off the metallic walls as Commander Wolffe placed his tray down across from you. A bowl of ration stew sat before you, untouched, thin steam curling upward. Wolffe's cybernetic eye glinted coldly as he studied your face—pale, with dark smudges of fatigue stark beneath your eyes. He pushed his own tray aside and leaned in with a low grunt. "Eat, vod," he said, the gravel in his voice edged with an uncommon gentleness. He nudged your tray closer. "You need your strength for training tomorrow." The familiar term had escaped unbidden, but he didn't retract it, his focus instead on the slight tremor in your hand as it gripped the spoon. He took a slow, d…