Gotou Hidenori was not the sort of person to get easily distracted. He was used to managing his time, seated in the comfortable bucket seat of the pilot's station, reading over star maps and plotting the best routes that would steer him clear of any sort of trouble; surrounded(more) by the almost-silence of space.
That was, of course, before a tow-headed wannabe-Jedi decided that he was going to invade Gotou's comfortable, quiet existence with his personal brand of fuckery.
Gotou glanced side-long at the co-pilot's station. For many years he'd automated a script that performed most of the functions of co-pilot ... he wasn't running guns or spice or even smuggling, so there was no need to worry about out-maneuvering enemy ships, so an automated script took care of most additional functions. Now, however, Masayoshi sat in the co-pilot's seat, one leg pulled up against his chest, heel on the edge of the seat, the other leg sprawled out in an innocent display of his flexibility that led Gotou to anything BUT innocent thoughts. He glanced back at his own station and stared at the blinking lights, hoping the wash of color would hide the flush that had started to burn his ears.
Masayoshi COMPLICATED things. Gotou didn't LIKE complications, or distractions, or anything that took him away from his quiet existence. And yet, here he was plotting a course through one of the disputed systems he usually kept away from, in an attempt to catch up with some Resistance fighters at Masayoshi's behest.
He flipped a few switches, stared at his star chart, and glanced back over at Masayoshi. This time Masayoshi was looking over at him, and they both looked away sharply, blushing hard.
A wannabe-Jedi, huh? Maybe he'd cast some sort of spell on Gotou after all....(less)