“Too slow, kid,” a voice calls, half a second before a pebble bounces off the top of Jon's head.

“I would like to request reassignment to the Coruscant Guard,” Tra says, posture still rigid. Cody blinks. “What?”

“Sergeant, are you hurt, too? No? Are you sure?” A pause. “Fine, sit down and take his hand,” the medic orders. Every medic has his own strategies to care for his brothers. These are medic Boil's.

Using this Crochet Code by ThatAloneOne, with some modifications, I translated Lewis Carroll's poem "Jaberwocky" and made a scarf.

The door slams closed again the second Fox clears the threshold. The street crowd has largely fallen back into its normal rhythm, everyone moved on from the disruption. Which just leaves Fox, and the kid. Great.