final hour • a sequel to assured liar

IX

"Whatever happens," she squeezed my hand gently, fingers coiling around mine even further, securing them gently in her reassuring grasp.

"You have me."

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͙⁺˚*･༓☾　bad news　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

I had her?

Her words didn't leave my mind the whole time I walked to my work place, my feet carried me faster than usual. My head hung low as I waddled through busy corridors, shifting through groups to get by without a hitch.

I caught sight of our head technician and if my head could've dropped any lower it would have. He was angry. I was later than usual.

Great.

I timed my movements, when he was facing the opposite way I tried to slip around the door. With a touch smack I fumbled backwards, a strong hard swaying in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.

"Ah, ah, aaah not so fast Miss Dameron" he tutted, eyes not leaving the clipboard he clung onto so dearly. I was close to ripping it out of his bare hands and breaking it on the spot- or hitting him round the head with it (whatever would be more inconvenient).

Internally, I screamed. Externally, I put on the fakest smile I could pursue, grinning up at Phex, my "superior". That would be his opinion of course, to me we were the same. The same intelligence, experience and the only thing separating us was a name and age.

He used the Dameron name against me- a lot. Thinking it gave him some sort of power he could grasp on to, or something to mock someone else and make himself feel better.

"Phex" my teeth clenched and grinned together like rusty coils in an old, tired machine. His lips curled into a familiar sort of grin, almost malicious as he shoved the clipboard into my chest. I grunted and my fists clenched white as I clung onto the board.

"Mommy and Daddy aren't here" he mockingly pulled a safe face and when he saw my eyes flicker to the ground he sneered playfully and leant up on the wall.

"You're assigned to Miss Luss for today" he started off, like nothing had happened. Luss- the name didn't ring any bells so I assumed they were new to a squad. Phex clapped his hands together impatiently and jerked his head towards the door.

I pulled a final smile and dragged myself to where I'd usually be set up. In front of me was a barely scratched X-Wing, it's badly done paint job peeling away.

Set up already was two tins of grey paint, ready to be slopped over the crusting dry paint that already lay on the jet.

I preferred getting technical, not painting- that wasn't my forte.