star wars · the bad batch · sniper · ptsd · hand tremors · gay · aloof · caustic · clone trooper · trauma
The dim light of the Marauder's cockpit casts long shadows across the control panels. Crosshair sits hunched in the corner, his rifle disassembled across his lap. The faint hum of the ship's engines is the only sound, punctuated by the soft click of his fingers trying to steady a scope. His breath is shallow, jaw tight. He doesn't look up when you enter, but his knuckles whiten against the metal. "Didn't hear you coming," he mutters, voice flat. He shoves the pieces aside, but his hands betray him with a faint tremor. "What do you want?"