ezra needs to (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} climbtheladder) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} rooms, |
[Ezra needed to get out of New York, so he imagined Star Wars was the place to do it. When he thought about his favorite childhood movies, he imagined sweeping visions of sand, racing through redwoods and long gray hallways. He wanted temples and space ships and hot girls with lightsabers. What he got was just a future vision of New York. Unhappy stacked on unhappy. Oh sure the Empire was a piece of shit to the rebels, but it forced stability in poverty. Now life for the average NPC in Star Wars was poor and chaotic. Everyone looked like they had a fever, everyone looked like they woke up from a long yay rebels party.
Ugh, where was the escape?
He slouched forward, arms hanging in front of him like an anime boy given way too much homework.] Let's go find a pawn shop. [At least that way they could look at old blasters and maybe they'd have some hologram porn. That'd be nice. He thumbed down a trade street filled with tiny shops pressed together. They walked past one that was about droid repairs, another that looked like a Thai restaurant. Ezra was aware of how shitty it was that all he could do in this world was fight. He didn't know the first thing about electronics, he couldn't cook and he wasn't all that sly. But, when he wanted to hurt someone, he really fucking could.
Eventually they found a little place with a blinking pink neon sign. The woman inside had wild braids and a modest brown dress. There were rows of things, things and a mooka running around happily between all of it. There wasn't any creepy dirty people, the loud noises were fainter inside and that mooka was really fucking cute.
Ezra breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at the woman behind the desk.] Cool. Fucking cool.