"Nerfburger," he answered immediately, "Wings are great, but they're small, and fiddly, and the sauce has to be right. You can't beat biting into a big juicy burger, almost too big for your mouth."

Jeryd realised just how hungry he was, then. It felt like a hole had been scooped out of his middle, rendering his extremities weak and heavy. His mood soured like blue milk in the sun. He had to watch that. Instead he focused on dreams of a nerfburger, loaded, stacked high, with crisp fries and a thick shake. For the sake of his own dignity, he suppressed a groan. Why did Rayner have to go and mention food?

He couldn't stay grumpy. The day had taken a dramatic and unexpected turn for the better. He was leaving the Citadel. Today. His unuttered prayers had been answered, even if they had come in the unlikely form of Kyle Rayner. They had a mission, and though the details were still unclear, he could safely assume it had something to do with people smuggling themselves out of Imperial space. And, if he was going to keep his unlikely partner happy, he was going to have to put himself in the shoes of someone in that unenviable position. Not literally, of course. Empathy. That was the key. Neb was always telling him off for judging people too harshly. For speaking without thinking. He didn't get it. Sometimes, it just felt good to ignore the brakes, to swing your dick, now and then.

Speaking of which...

"Wait. We're getting our own speeder? That is sick. Have they got the new Meresti Fang?"