It’s always been something of a point of pride, for Ponds, that he never really has to worry about his general.

With a sound of quiet sympathy, Kit reaches out, tapping his knuckles lightly against Rex's pauldron. “Forgive me, Captain, but I believe you would be far more comfortable without your armor. The beach cannot be a pleasant place for you right now.” Rex pauses, almost startled by the idea of taking his armor off. He’s on a mission, or at least the disastrous tail end of one, and unless he’s on leave, he almost never strips down to his blacks. And it’s been…months, since his last stretch of leave that wasn’t cut off before it even started. “Oh,” he says dumbly, and then flushes, reaching for the clasps on his armor. “Right, sorry, sir.”

“I'm not going to stay with the ship,” Anakin says, outraged. Savage closes his eyes, not quite praying for patience, but—reaching for it, certainly. Having a padawan has been good for his self-control in ways Savage hasn’t even wanted to consider too closely.

“Barriss?” Ahsoka hisses, bewildered. Barriss, in a fancier dress than Ahsoka has ever seen her in, covered in tattoos and dripping jewelry, freezes stock-still on the stairs into the casino, and Ahsoka feels the bright-sharp flare of her panic a half-second before she spins to face Ahsoka.

This mission isn't going anywhere close to plan, and Mace is never again trusting Obi-Wan when he says it will.

Bly's new wife is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and she's graceful and charming and funny and so far out of his league that he's about to die.

Jon is not used to wanting anything, much less something he might be allowed to have.