He was lucky to be alive, that he knew. He appreciated the fact that he was alive and mostly undamaged, but he would rather be dead. That way, he wouldn’t be sitting in his old quarters with a box of his things and Athra’s wedding band in the palm of his hand. He knew it wasn’t right to try to kill her on Baras’s order, but Baras… Baras had his way of getting things done. He used people and discarded them as soon as they were used up. He hadn’t even bothered to contact Quinn to ensure the deed was done. He obviously had little faith in his pawn. As they sped toward Corellia, he wondered what he could do to change Athra’s mind. Apologizing seemed pointless as his words meant nothing to her any more. He had vowed to be by her side to the end, to protect her, to love her and he had broken at least one of those. Two in her eyes.

When they landed on Corellia, she nearly left him on the ship. He could do far more damage if left alone, she reasoned, it was best to take him along with the others. He was their medical officer as well so it only made sense. She didn’t feel weird without him by her side at all. Not at all.

Their first few firefights were uneventful. Standard Republic idiots shooting at the first Imp they saw. She wasn’t prepared for battle droids. The Transponder Station was still fresh on her mind and she froze. She could see Quinn standing between the droids he summoned, spouting some nonsense about being able to kill her with his super awesome Sith killing droids. Her hesitation left her wide open for attack. The droid leveled its cannon on her and aimed. She stared, her eyes unseeing.

“My Lord!” Quinn shouted from behind her. She was vaguely aware of his presence. She blinked slowly as the droid charged its cannon.

“Athra!” he shouted. She still didn’t move. It was now or never. He aimed carefully, but quickly, and let off a rapid series of bolts. It was just enough to shift the droid’s aim to the ground next to its original target. Athra snapped out of her trance in that instant and shifted her focus to Quinn. He was motioning wildly, trying to get her to move away from the droid or attack or something. She just blinked and stared.

The droid recovered quickly and panic briefly slipped through Quinn’s calm mind. He had to protect her. He ran from the relative safety of cover to the still-stunned Athra. He pulled her out of the way just as the droid’s arm swung down to slap her. It caught him on the shoulder and sent him flying. He hit the ground at speed, tumbling and rolling violently.

Athra watched him bounce and tumble and fall with wide eyes. Then he stopped tumbling. He stopped moving all together. The droid clanked off after the downed Captain fully intent on finishing what it started. She watched the droid shoot the Captain with its grappling hook and flinched when he shouted in pain. The droid brought the Captain in close to ensure the shot would be fatal.

The droid armed its cannon once more and aimed. Quinn closed his eyes and waited for Mistress Death to claim him.

“Get away from my husband you son of a b*tch!” Athra growled angrily.

Quinn’s eyes popped open in time to see Athra’s sabers slice through the droid effortlessly. He fell to the ground in a heap and scrambled to move away from the falling droid pieces. He stared at her with wide eyes. Had he heard her correctly?

“Husband?” he asked quietly.

“Didn’t you know I married that droid?” she answered blithely.

He chuckled lightly then winced and coughed.

“You’re hurt,” she said gently.

“Just a punctured lung, nothing serious,” he said stiffly.

She laughed quietly and knelt down next to him. She unbuttoned his jacket swiftly, the buttons all too familiar to her, and pulled it down his arms. He was careful to keep his gaze anywhere, but on her. He wanted so badly to pull her to him and hold her. Just hold her and tell her how sorry he was. In his current condition, that would be a bad idea. He shifted uncomfortably as she poked and prodded at his ribs. At least three were broken and one had pierced his right lung. He flinched visibly when she found the gold chain hanging around his neck and pulled it from under his shirt.

“My ring,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he said softly.

He continued staring at the ground in shame when an idea entered his head. Why not try apologizing? It was worth a shot anyway. Worst thing she could do would be to kill him outright. Or was that the best thing she could do?

“I’m sorry, Athra,” he said quietly.

“Why did you do it?” she asked tonelessly.

“Because I’m an idiot.”

“That’s obvious,” she said lightly.

He flicked his eyes to hers. “Doesn’t make it any less true,” he said quietly.

“True.”

“I know there’s nothing I can say that will even begin to fix the ruins of our marriage and the flaming wreckage that is the trust between us, but I hope, with time, my actions can begin the process.” He paused for a moment and watched as Athra’s gaze softened a tad. “I do still love you.”

“You’re an idiot,” she said quietly.

“I hear that’s what love does to you,” he said lightly. “Athra…”

She loved the way he said her name. She smiled briefly then pulled his face to hers. Their kiss was tentative and unsure, but it was hopeful. She pulled away from him and smiled a teasing smile.

“Well, there is one way you can make it up to me,” she said suggestively.

“Oh?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes,” she purred.

“After we take care of business here and destroy Baras for good?”

“You do know how to ruin a mood, don’t you?” she pouted.

“I excel at all things,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

“I have my work cut out for me, don’t I?” he asked stiffly.

“But the payoff is worth it,” she purred.

He grinned. The payoff was worth it indeed.

I can hear you asking "What? No Jaesa?" Nope. Seems my muse for Ninety Seven Percent has gone AWOL and left me with Quick Quinn Quotes Universe business. And I'm ignoring the muse that wants me to write about little Malavai's adventures...

EDIT: How many freakin' typos do I have to correct after the fact? My goodness...

"They're about to board." Ashara barely heard Andronikos' warning. She simply nodded in understanding as she cradled her husband-to-be's head in her lap. She was sitting cross-legged on the head of his bed with Mel'ake's tall form resting on the ergonomic pillows. As she heard the airlock open, she used the back of her glove to wipe away a spot of drool from the edge of Mel'ake's breathing mask.

"Your sister is coming to visit." She whispered, albeit fairly sure he couldn't hear her with his blood and nervous system pumped full of sedatives. "She says she's bringing help." And from the amount of footsteps in the hallway, the Emperor's Wrath delivered on her promise.

"Ashey." The Wrath spoke from the doorway. The endearing nickname was spoken without its usual cheer. Instead, Lucerna's voice was strained with sadness. Ashara realized it was her first time seeing her brother in such a state. Strange as it was for the cyborg daughter of a powerful human Darth to consider a Twi'lek former slave her little brother, Ashara couldn't debate the strength of their bond.

"He looks bad." Lucerna continued as she surveyed the frail form on the bed. Mel'ake's breathing was shallow and helped by a small breathing mask placed over his nose and mouth. Every few minutes, he would wince or shudder, or even cry out. Every time he did so Ashara held him tighter. "Is there any way to numb the pain?" Lucerna asked.

"I'm sorry," Ashara said as she shook her head. "Talos said he was already pushing the doses of sedatives. He said the amount he's using is almost the maximum for Mel's most recent weight." She didn't need to say that Mel'ake was now lighter. The sweat-drenched robes he wore couldn't hide the fact that he lost significant amounts of weight since Lucerna's last visit.

"Has it been hard to get him to eat?" Lucerna asked, her voice laced with concern.

"It's been hard to get him to be conscious." Ashara admitted. "Ever since we ran into the artifact on Quesh, he hasn't been himself. They're taking over." Lucerna nodded sadly and moved across the room to sit on the edge of the bed, taking one of her brother's hands in both of hers. Ashara saw the people who were standing behind the Wrath for the first time, and she greeted them with a small smile. She recognized Lucerna's husband, Malavai Quinn, her apprentice, Jaesa Wilsaam, and an imperial officer in the Wrath's service, a man known only by his rank of Lieutenant and last name of Pierce. Also in the doorway stood a well-dressed Zabrak man and an elderly human man who wore a doctor's coat.

"Pierce." Lucerna commanded, "take Talos and Lokin to a separate room for their specific instructions." The large Lieutenant nodded and left, beckoning for the elderly man to follow.

"You have a plan?" Ashara asked, feeling hope start to bubble up in her. Lucerna nodded.

"Ashara, meet Capsin, formerly of Imperial Intelligence." She gestured to the Zabrak. He walked over to Ashara and bowed courteously.

"The pleasure is mine, my dear. I would kiss your hand, but both seem otherwise occupied." Ashara involuntarily tightened her grip on Mel'ake. The agent spoke in a voice that sounded drenched in honey. "I am an old associate of our dear Wrath's husband, Captain Quinn. Sweet little Lucerna enlisted my help in gathering information concerning the well-being of our friend Mel'ake. More specifically, she wanted me to use my particular brand of gathering information to find anyone specialized in this type of force sickness."

"Any luck?" Ashara found herself asking.

"Yes and no." Capsin said, fidgeting slightly. "The Sith are not known for their skills in healing. The single living Sith who has the most knowledge on mending bodies and minds is probably the dear Dark Council member snoring on your lap." Ashara started to open her mouth to berate him, berate Lucerna for bringing her useless information on Mel'ake's ship, but Capsin held up a finger and continued.

"The Sith are not the only ones strong with the force in the galaxy, as you know very well, Padawan. The Jedi have quite an extensive network of healers. The trick is to find one skilled in the mystic arts who has recently fallen. My people are scouting out several leads as we speak. In the meantime, my good friend Doctor Lokin will assist your ship's medic. I personally assure you, he is highly experienced in dealing with fragile mental and emotional states."

"My emotional state is not fragile!" Ashara roared. Capsin held up his hands apologetically and pointed to Mel'ake.

"You misunderstand, my dear. I was referring to the one possessed by four Sith ghosts."

"Ah." Ashara blushed and looked down, ashamed. "So, what's the plan?"

"We stop looking to the Sith for answers." Lucerna was the one who spoke up. "We are going to try a new path, we are going to seek help from a Jedi."

I will write about the incident on Quesh, promise. This scene was just kicking around for a few days too many.

Broan picked up the holocommunicator, looked at for a moment and then set it back down. He fidgeted with the slides on his desk, arranging them by subject, then by ones he had read, then by ones he had actually understood and finally he arranged them into a house. He checked the holocommunicator again for the fifth time that evening; it was quickly becoming a compulsion. Fidget, check, fidget, check. Every time he checked the number was indeed still there and, yes, he had not connected. His pulse quickened as his finger hovered over the 'call' button. He looked around the room, wondering if he really wanted to keep the bed there or if would be better against the other wall...

No, you idiot, just hit the button. How hard is it to hit a little button?

"Gorse! I swear I don't need any more f*cking c--" A tiny, translucent blue image of a man appeared above the disk. "My Lord, my sincerest apologies, I was not... I was unaware that you would be contacting me. I am terribly sorry for outburst. I-"

"Please, Lieutenant, stop apologising, it's grating," Broan leant his chin on one hand and smiled. He simply found it strangely pleasant looking at the man. "Now, what is that Captain Gorse keeps trying to give you?" Lieutenant Windthorpe paused, clearly trying to think of a reasonable way to explain himself.

"Cakes, my Lord. The Ascendant Traipse has found herself in the possession of quite a few pastry chefs and Captain Gorse is insistent that everyone have cake."

"Don't you like cake, Lieutenant?" Broan felt his chest constrict as he watched the other man go from deflated to confused.

"I do, my Lord, but there is a limit to how much I can eat in one day. The triple chocolate fudge swirl is just too... fudgy. I must admit that I preferred the carrot cake I was forced to have for breakfast."

"Life aboard the Ascendant Traipse sounds very interesting at the moment, Lieutenant." At this, Windthorpe's back snapped up straight and his casual air was gone.

"My Lord I assure you that Captain Gorse is by no means squandering our resources aboard the Ascendant Traipse. We are currently ferrying half a dozen diplomats, two score minor nobility, one score aristocracy and their assorted families, servants and preferred slaves. They very much demand the presence of cake."

"Lieutenant," Broan's heart thumped in his chest and could feel his free hand beginning to shake. "I did not contact you to question the doings of you ship, I was merely wondering if..." Bollocks. "...any of my personal effects from the Absolution had been put in your care."

"I do not believe they have been, my Lord, but I will make sure to check every avenue available to me and contact you at your soonest convenience," Lieutenant Windthorpe bowed, folding perfectly at the waist. He held Broan's gaze as he moved, making Broan wish that the communicators displayed in true colour, rather than washed out blue. It had been too long since he had seen those strong, grey eyes... "My Lord?"

"What? Oh, bad connection," Broan smiled sheepishly. He liked to think it had been a long time since he had felt so bumbling and confused, but it truth it really was not. "Lieutenant, when are you next on Dromund Kaas?"

"The Ascendant Traipse will be in Kaas space within the week, my Lord. We are to unload our passengers so that they might return to their lives in Kaas City and then await new orders."

"Contact me when you reach Kaas City, I would like to speak with you in person."

"Of course, my Lord; by then I am sure I will have located you personal effects."

"Very good, Lieutenant," Broan cancelled the call and let out a deep, long sigh. He banged his head against the desk a few times, knocking over his little house and gave himself a headache. "Oh I'm such a f*cking idiot."

"betrayal is par for the course, I mean, hey, we're Imperial, so let's not let it ruin a perfectly good working (wink, wink) relationship." There is no love involved.

Varrel "I'm not wearing a dress, these are hakama trousers" Umrahiel: 'ready weapon' (default z key)

Sha'ra'zaed: 'holocomm' (legacy emote)

Jesp Rixik: 'double guns'

Kirya Bilali: 'fidget'

Quinn was stuck in a classic Catch-22. Refuse the order outright and have Baras force-choke him to death through the holocomm, or comply and have the SW kill him later. I haven't seen any video where people chose one of the more merciful options. He was hosed either way. He picked the option that let him live at least a little longer than the holocomm transmission delay. The only thing keeping him alive is game mechanics.

The resulting transcript of almost all possible conversation paths is here, and that contains links with some notes on which Youtube video shows what. The sole LS option taker I found

the fact that he isn't with Imperial Intelligence...that always seems to come up!...and it's arguable whether you want to claim that that's just a thing your character did after game canon ended.

I went full lightside when I played my male!SW. I haven't come up with a good reason other than my guy really, really liked Quinn and was pretty forgiving of most people's mistakes. It's just much more fun to write about beating the ever loving hell out of Quinn. Or tormenting him. Or anything that makes him uncomfortable.

NSP Quinn is split into three distinct personalities. The Captain, Malavai, and Quinn. The Captain is what you see in game, a calculating and cold machine of a man. Malavai is the Captain before the experiments started during his early childhood; it's why he's about four. The Captain is very protective of his first name which translates into the overall protectiveness he exhibits toward Malavai. And Quinn. Well Quinn is just an arse. He's pretty much the Captain uninhibited and with super powers who is satisfied with murdering anything that crosses his path. Or looks like it will cross his path. Or even thinks about being on the same planet as him.

So, you are making the distinction between the three for the one you torment? Or are they all tormented?

It really depends on the context and my mood, but, generally, I try to torment every variation of Quinn on some level.

It's just too darn fun.

Just really feels like an incredibly wrong relationship where the woman goes back to her abusive husband after he's attempted to kill her. (I cut out a longer, harsher description, cause really I don't think anyone here needs to be reminded why spousal violence is so ugly.)

Really don't like that guy. I will however read tons of stories where he's put in humiliating and silly situations just to watch him squirm. That's quite fun.

WHY VESANIAE DOES NOT HATE QUINN: A SHORT ESSAY

When considering exactly why it is that the thought of the infamous Quinncident fails to fill my heart with a deep and burning rage, I suppose that the answer is actually fairly straightforward. To put it simply: I love tragedy.

I love sad endings. I love well-executed character death (no pun intended). I suppose 'love' is a bit of a strong word, but I'll plead artistic license. To me, a story that leaves me shocked and awed and saddened and wishing that if only things could have been different is just as satisfying, if not more, than a story where everything is sunshine and roses.

Quinn's cold-blooded betrayal of the Warrior is terrible. It's even more terrible if the character in question is female and has done the romance. It's awful, it's heartbreaking, it's simply tragic. (Which is worse, the fact that Quinn betrays you or the poor way the game/story segregation handles it?)

That inherent tragedy appealed to me greatly. I remember the moment I accidentally spoiled myself on the Quinncident. First I was shocked, then I jumped for joy. Everything that Quinn and the Fem!Warrior went through together would all be in vain. I started envisioning how A'tro would react to the event, and went through so many possibilities... It was wonderful.

Let's think about it this way for a minute--what if the Quinncident didn't happen? What if that episode simply wasn't a part of the story? What would Quinn be then? The dreaded betrayal is what defines Quinn as character, and is what tends to define people's opinion of Quinn as a character. Without that element, Quinn would simply be that guy who is all Imperial and stuff. Not very interesting.

And sure, I want my Warrior and Quinn to have a happy ending as much as the next person, but it just wouldn't feel right without a lot of struggle. I WANT TRAGEDY, DAMMIT!

I've played through the Warrior story three times now. The characters consisted of: A'tro, a clone of A'tro, and a reboot of A'tro on my new account. Original, I am not. Each time I ran through the transponder station, my heart was pounding, butterflies were fluttering, and I yelled enthusiastically at the screen, "QUINN, YOU [expletive deleted] BASTARD!!!"

But when it's all said and done, I forgive him. I couldn't quite bring myself to take the light option, and A'tro couldn't bring herself to take the dark option, so we compromised. In the end, A'tro blamed herself more than Quinn. In the end, I guess I just didn't take it personally.

And those are my two credits. Because I could.

The thing with Quinn is he never fully explains his reasoning. He simply says Baras has forced his hand and that he must side with him. That could mean any number of things. It's probably why he's spawned so many fanfics starring him as people try to work through just why the bastard went through with it.

The bit about Baras forcing his hand is unresolved. I was expecting some sort of reveal when I BROUGHT QUINN WITH ME TO STAB BARAS IN THE GOD DAMN COLON. But, no, nothing. The whole matter is left just floating in the ether and it's annoying and a sign of poor planning.

Like I've said before, I could be biased because Quinn is similar to my husband (ya know, without the whole try to kill me thing) and damn if I don't really like Quinn's complexity. I just wanna peel him apart like an onion and examine the layers.

Hate him or like him, you can't deny the character evokes emotions in all who have experienced his event. And that is what a good character does.

I can't connect SW romances to real life morals. I cannot do it. It's too nauseating. Quinn consistently likes it when you won't take no for an answer. You are rewarded for wrongness like ordering him to kiss you immediately after he says he isn't willing. You can command sexual contact from an unwilling target who has no way of saying no to you, and you are given numerical positive feedback and told that he likes it. It's horrifying. Then he turns the tables, smacks you with a murder attempt, and you can just say "lulz, all right, let's get it on now." And people take that option, gladly, and the boyfriend/husband goes on as if everything's just peachy keen.

From all I hear, DS Jaesa likes to be trampled as well, and we're not talking healthy BDSM safeword stuff. You know how all male Force users can take advantage of their padawans/apprentices? She really, really likes that worshipful sub position.

This is roleplaying the Empire and, worse, the Sith, and it just hits so many yucky notes I have to keep it in a little mental compartment well away from my usual ethical sensibilities. Even there there's some convo options I can't click.

(Oddly enough, I loved Quinn's power balance in my first playthrough because I kept hitting the "I'm'a respect your wishes" notes, it didn't occur to me to hit anything else, and I was astonished that those notes were available to me. It felt great. <3 And then I saw some recordings of the options I didn't take…)

Amazing character, but the Incident is not good writing. The absence of meaningful action options at the end almost unravels the whole thing. The emotions evoked by the SW's total helplessness are not the marks of good writing; they are the marks of a nearly-brilliant thing getting trampled for expediency's sake.

The emotions evoked by everything else about him, including the forces that brought him to that scene, are spot on. That was good. But the arbitrary action limitation, followed by a lack of resolution, mean that I can't call his arc well-written overall.

In beta you could actually kill him, but people complained that they were stunted without Quinn because they took the option to stab him in the face (or choke him or something) just to see if they could. So, instead of giving you a resolution (say, another medic), BW slapped in those stupid choices and pretty much killed the ending to what would have been an excellent (overall) story.

He's still a good character (in that he evokes emotional responses), but BW's hamfisted crowd pleasing methods killed off any resolution. And I get the feeling the "story" on any character will never be updated past the Chapter Three ending.

In the end, the whole thing ends up completely unsatisfying.

He did not want to betray you but everyone else failed to kill you so it was his turn.

He gives his reasons with two somewhat contradictory explanations during the incident:

1. The Emperor is an absentee leader, with Baras as the Voice the Empire will flourish

2. Even lamer: Baras saved my career so he picked Baras over you

That's actually the reason I don't like the Quinncident. My problem with his story is it made no sense. His logic was flawed and he was not supposed to be an illogical person.

I am a loyal Imperial but I will commit treason if I think it's better for the Empire... and that guy saved my career... oh but you'll let me live that guy who I would commit treason for would never do that... I love you now.

I kind of wish he had stayed evil or really had been coerced or Baras had threatened to drown a sack of kittens if he didn't comply and Quinn just really really likes kittens. Something, but nope.

I guess my brain can't handle things that don't make sense, I often wonder if the writing there was just bad because they had to rip out a lot of the options (besides the option to kill him though that would have gone a long way to makign Quinn tolerable). I wonder if the orginal intent for the story was that more than one of your companions would betray you depending on how you made your choices. That would have been neat.

I made Aranea gay because I didn't want her to be with Quinn. I did not want her to be with someone who ultimately betrays her, especially because of the whole spousal abuse thing. But as I play through her story, she still develops a relationship with him. It's just platonic, but it's still meaningful. She expects him to be her friend and ultimately, thinks of him like a surrogate brother. When he betrays her, she's absolutely heartbroken. It destroys her perception of friendship, family, and brotherhood. She loses the ability to trust that people are inherently good.

So, even taking away the skeezy domestic violence stuff, Quinn is still problematic for me. And the sad thing is that I wanted Aranea and Quinn to repair their friendship. But I just could not come up with a scenario where they can ever rebuild that - even with Aranea's idealism, even with her deep desire for true friendship, even with her capacity to forgive. I don't think Quinn deserves the Warrior's love and friendship, no matter which gender or whether or not they romanced him.

For me, Quinn is just...a character I can appreciate for being well-written, but not someone I would really expect most characters to ever repair things with. That's why sometimes it's hard for me when someone's character forgives him, even though of course I think it's fine for people to make that choice for themselves! I just truly don't understand it!

"Sir."

I looked up from my console. Jorgan was leaning in the doorway.

"Jorgan," I said.

"What do you think of the new guy?"

"I think Forex is amazing. I had no idea you could put that much personality in a droid and still have room for missile turrets."

"Hm," he half laughed. "That's so. Impressive tech overall, and quick on orders. Should be good for us."

"Absolutely."

"I'm curious how things'll work in the field. Every new addition changes the dynamic. Sets our style slightly different."

"Yeah, I know." I hated it when he got pedantic. He knew my background, already knew I was a veteran. This could only mean he was angling toward something.

"And this may surprise you to hear, but I'm pretty sure you're up for adapting to it. You've done better than I expected with that, all in all."

"This is your roundabout way of jabbing me about Sergeant Dorne, isn't it. You are not starting this." He did something once or twice a week that was a roundabout way of prodding me to make Sergeant Dorne part of the team. Rah rah, Havoc spirit, or something.

"I'm just saying. We're functioning as a unit a lot better than I feared when I found out this woman you think is your archnemesis was coming on board."

"She's not my archnemesis. Archnemesis...es…are unique, or at least uncommon. She's one of billions."

"She's on our side, and she's got the skills to hold her own. Which is good. Havoc needs to be at full strength. And I'm glad you've been all right about letting her work."

"Well, thank you very much for that pat on the back. Anything else you want to cover, Sergeant Warm Fuzzies?"

"I thought we might invite her next time we're out for dinner."

"You already invite her every time. She's always busy with her reading."

"We might invite, Savins. It'd mean something coming from you."

"I would rather bring Forex to the cantina than her."

Jorgan shrugged, unruffled. "We can invite him too. Make it a welcome party or something. Just ask her. Just the once."

"I don't want to be her buddy, Jorgan. There's nights I just play her voice over in my head so I can practice not wanting to shoot in its direction when I hear her accent in combat. When the firing starts…you have no idea. That's not the stuff friendships are made of."

"Well, you're not shooting her when you hear her accent in combat, so something's working, at least."

"Anybody ever tell you you're a terrible ambassador for unit cohesiveness? I don't get it. You're the guy who went out of your way to piss me off, for weeks, when we started working together."

He suddenly got shifty-eyed. "Yeah, well, you rubbed me the wrong way."

"So get off my case about her rubbing me the wrong way!"

"Furthermore," he said loudly, "I didn't think you had the discipline to hold a real squad together. Which is why I stay on your case about it."

"You want to talk about happy squads, friends getting along, we can reprogram Forex to sing holding-hands campfire songs. Actually, I would love to hear that done in his voice."

"Yeah, well. Maybe screwing with him will give you something to do other than complaining about her. I'm looking forward to it." He stood up straight. "About time we got some new blood in here in any case."

"Droids don't have blood, Jorgan."

"You know what I mean, Savins."

Seriously, Jorgan, quit it with the "I'm'a teach you my wisdom" schtick. I was so happy when the game let me say "Let's see here, which of us was put in command of Havoc Squad? Umm, NOT YOU." He and I…had our differences starting out.

But I love him. He's a solid guy.