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“Um, sir…?”
Thorn hears the trooper call out from the reception desk just as he’s about to turn towards the barracks, and fails to suppress a sigh.
“Sorry to interrupt,” they’re quick to continue while they have his attention, however unwillingly it may be provided, “but we’ve had a bit of an… unusual complaint filed against us?”
“Are you asking me, or informing me?” Thorn manages not to snap in reply despite the weariness that encourages him to do so, instead falling back on his usual careful patience reserved for shinies learning the ropes.
“Sorry, sir, it’s just that it reads like the person to issue the reprimand may have made a mistake. One of the senators has issued a formal complaint against ‘trooper CC-0000’ for ‘working in the senate building while’… well.”
“While what? Spit it out!”
“While ‘possessed by some Force-damned demonic entity’, sir.”
At that, Thorn finally joins the shiny in squinting at the report in confusion.
“Well that can’t be right,” Thorn mutters, reluctantly in agreement with their assessment. He ignores the gesture of vindication the trooper makes to one of his mates working on flimsiwork nearby. “That isn’t even a real designation. It’s a placeholder. This must just be one of the other battalions playing a prank.”
He pauses. Squints at the datapad like it might cough up more answers the longer he stares at it.
“Or even someone on the inside,” he continues. Perhaps Stone was more cut up about Thorn dipping into his stash of good ration bars than he had let on…
Before Thorn can follow that line of suspicion any further, the doors to the office slide open again. Thorn makes no move to look up from the datapad - not until he notices the other troopers stiffen, hands going to their blasters. Thorn turns, ready for any number of unpleasant visitors, and so is pleasantly surprised to find a fellow trooper facing him instead.
Except… there is something very off about their movements. The armour doesn’t seem to fit quite right, as if it might have been donned quickly, and their steps towards the desk are irregular and lurching.
It’s the other sergeant at the desk that speaks up to them first. “Hang on there, trooper,” they say, and the stranger comes to a stop. The sergeant looks down at their datapad, and back up at them, then offers a sharp nod in Thorn’s direction.
“Yep, this is your guy,” they confirm, before turning back to the newcomer. “You’ve been causing us quite the headache. What do you have to say for yourself, trooper?”
The only response they get is a rather distorted gurgle, something that has even Thorn tensing up in alarm. It’s not the kind of sound that he’s ever heard a human make before.
“Okay, come on now,” the sergeant continues, very badly attempting to hide their nervousness. “Stop mucking around. Off with your bucket, come on.”
The trooper twitches in place, and for a moment Thorn thinks that they’re going to ignore them again. Then, slowly, the trooper’s helmet starts to lift itself off of their head - seemingly without any intervention from the trooper at all.
The helmet clatters to the floor and reveals a distinctly nonhuman figure underneath, with too many eyes and a mouth that wraps around the side of what could be considered its head. The feeler appendages along the side of its jaw are probably what it used to push the helmet off with from underneath. Thorn knows that he should perhaps be slightly more concerned about this than he is, but as it is all he feels is building exasperation. This isn’t the first time he’s seen a creature like this. It’s not even the first time he’s seen such a creature that day.
Sure enough, the markings along the entity’s neck revealed next are distinct enough that all the troopers in the room lower their blasters immediately.
“Again? Really?!” one of them curses, just one of many voices to jump in at the moment realisation dawns on them all.
Thorn can only sigh in solidarity, and raise his comm to his mouth.
“Fox? Yes, it’s me. We’ve found your karking massiff. Yeah. And the missing armour that you mentioned earlier. And a whole lot of trouble.”
At the mention of ‘trouble’, the not-a-trooper gives a massiff’s gurgle of contentment. She is, Thorn imagines as he looks wearily down at the source of his latest headache, completely unrepentant.
—
Fox doesn’t actually get round to picking up Trouble until later on in the day. It gives her more than enough time to wriggle her way out of the armour and into a more comfortable - and familiar - form, and she’s waiting for him more than a little impatiently by the time he finally arrives.
The troopers in the office are just as relieved to see him as she is, Fox notes, as he looks around at the state of minor chaos Trouble seems to have created in the place over the course of her visit. Given the amount of scattered flimsi and gnawed-on bits of armour, he can’t even say that he blames them. Force knows he's been on the receiving end of the creature's mischief enough times to know how much of a pain she could be when she put her mind to it - and here, she has very obviously been given enough time to put her mind to it.
With this in mind, he makes sure to wait until they’re out of earshot before shooting a sly grin down at the massiff.
Trouble shoots a happy smile back at him. The number of teeth involved is, in Fox’s opinion, unnecessary, and the human-like curve of it is still a little uncanny even after the months he’s had to get used to it… but if there’s anything disturbing or demonic about it, Fox has long since stopped being bothered by it at all.
“I hear you’ve been scaring senators again?” he says as they walk. “Excellent work, trooper.”