Thread: Masquerade [ Ft. Banks & November ]

If one were carefully inspecting the body language of the woman, subconsciously one hand gripped the case a bit tighter, the color leaving the skin around her knuckles slowly. Did he just. . Stick his. . It was going to take a lot to get through this conversation without landing a blow to the bridge of his nose, even more so when the man tried to cover for himself, as though either of them had insinuated such a thing. He had brought it to their attention before she had taken note of the box, though even if he wasn't to use it for himself, using it for his own gains was the next best idea, hm? The budding conversation between the two men had left the woman counting inwardly, releasing her tightened grip for a moment only to snap it back to gripping the case when the man again attempted to backtrack. Was this how people had civil conversations, because frankly there were several faster ways they could have gone about this, but the woman held her tongue, kept herself from gripping him by the collar and almost immediately wishing she hadn't. The flush hit her cheeks so fast, Phasma was beyond thankful the attention wasn't directed to her for the time being, bright eyes venturing across the airfield. This was being stretched out far more than either of them were expecting, cursing deep within at Fedorre. Here she was, the wife of Goose Stillwater. Through several silent breaths of air she had managed to contain any signs of her cheeks completely discrediting her, just in time for the case to warily be slid from her hands. Eyes staring holes into the back of the officer's head, again and again she reminded herself that she should have just taken him out and dragged him away someplace quiet, avoiding all of this confrontation and conversation. But then again, this mission was already a thorn in both of their sides, and easily she would keep herself from repeating this situation ever again. Sitting comfortably in the silence that sat between the lovely couple, Phasma had taken to lightly running her tongue over the edges of her teeth when her concentration was broken by the sulking of the man next to her. The tone in his voice proved that he was feeling lesser, raising a dark brow softly, he looked like someone had kicked his favorite droid down an airlock and forced him to watch it float away. Expectations? Had to be his own. Or was he supposed to be living up to the hype that surrounded him? Neither of them had handled that situation gracefully, and it only showed that they simply needed. . Well, the ability to deal with others, and that thought alone made her cringe. It's over now. If you know you can do better, then do it. Of course Phasma knew nothing about the struggle he was dealing with in his head, her own conditioned to simply. . Well, get better or ultimately fail. And clearly, she wasn't one to simply fail. It was then the speeder began to veer slightly to the left, distancing itself from their straightened path only slightly as they grew near the facility. Head turning away from him, her eyes began shifting as she took in the visual of the building, counting the few on patrol as the speeder veered around it in a circle in the distance. Not enough to be too worried, but the woman couldn't assume there weren't several more inside. Done sulking? Her tone wasn't condescending despite her words, landing the speeder near the back of the building after the first trip around, eyes again moving back to Goo- Robin Stillwater.