As little dread as Luke put into that sentence, Wedge still picks some hesitance. Luke's always been a bit impatient, and Wedge's willing to bet a good trade that he'd rather be flying than fixing the hovercrafts. Sometimes different approaches lead to the same ship. Wedge has a good inkling that he and Luke are going to end up in the same hovercraft anyways.
"...there's a pilot training program," he reveals to Luke. "I, uhh, over-achieved and signed up as both a mechanic and a pilot trainee. I figured being a mechanic would get me in shape faster." Not to mention that, for someone with a mind as technical as Wedge's, he isn't comfortable flying anything he doesn't know intimately. There are other ways to get to know a ship besides working on it, of course, but a crash course is just the sort of sink-or-swim philosophy Wedge subscribed to and thrived in.
"You, with me? How will I cope?" Wedge inserts as much sarcasm as possible into the sentence, finishing with a rarely sincere smile. "Come on, it's this way."
The path takes them away from the hovercrafts and into housing that's rather close to the shipyards, but still a level below the dock. A deliberate choice by Wedge, no doubt. "Sorry, I haven't had time to clean up," he mentions apologetically, opening the door to the apartment he's lovingly named 'the tincan' due to its minimalist size and ample use of metal all over the place.
It's spartan living: a small entrance/living room, a smaller kitchen, then a room with two beds and a refresher. It's obvious why Wedge picked it: it resembles the commanders' quarters at Hoth and Home One, where expediency of space in case of attacks won over luxurious comforts.
There's schematics on top of every surface, it seems. Which Wedge unceremoniously removes from the unused bed to his. "If you're expecting good cooking, I'll remind you that I'm a Corellian. But I have a caf machine."
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"...there's a pilot training program," he reveals to Luke. "I, uhh, over-achieved and signed up as both a mechanic and a pilot trainee. I figured being a mechanic would get me in shape faster." Not to mention that, for someone with a mind as technical as Wedge's, he isn't comfortable flying anything he doesn't know intimately. There are other ways to get to know a ship besides working on it, of course, but a crash course is just the sort of sink-or-swim philosophy Wedge subscribed to and thrived in.
"You, with me? How will I cope?" Wedge inserts as much sarcasm as possible into the sentence, finishing with a rarely sincere smile. "Come on, it's this way."
The path takes them away from the hovercrafts and into housing that's rather close to the shipyards, but still a level below the dock. A deliberate choice by Wedge, no doubt. "Sorry, I haven't had time to clean up," he mentions apologetically, opening the door to the apartment he's lovingly named 'the tincan' due to its minimalist size and ample use of metal all over the place.
It's spartan living: a small entrance/living room, a smaller kitchen, then a room with two beds and a refresher. It's obvious why Wedge picked it: it resembles the commanders' quarters at Hoth and Home One, where expediency of space in case of attacks won over luxurious comforts.
There's schematics on top of every surface, it seems. Which Wedge unceremoniously removes from the unused bed to his. "If you're expecting good cooking, I'll remind you that I'm a Corellian. But I have a caf machine."