"Not this time, at least," Poe says, grinning. Captain Andor, he thinks, has a nice laugh -- even if sounds like it's a little rusty from disuse. "It's the scruff, buddy; one of my pilots insists that plenty of people just go wild over it." But then again, if Poe had to pick the most striking feature about the good Captain, he'd say it was all in the eyes. Watchful and intense, but even during the hardest of his expressions, there's something soft around the edges. Maybe it's the illusion of vulnerability, but if it is, it's terribly effective.

Poe says none of this, of course. He's just attempting to break up a stressful moment with gentle teasing -- no need to get carried away.

For a little while, he falls back into silence, dancing the ship through the debris field and grateful to be the one in control as he watches the distance scroll down between them and their tail. And soon enough -- sooner than he'd wanted -- the first streaks of green energy come streaking past their ship, overhead and to starboard. "Well," Poe says at last, and flicks another glance to Andor as he reaches out to activate the Heartline's respectable deflector shields.

The energy pull is every bit as respectable, and he bares his teeth as the ship seems to lag for a moment, before smoothing out once more. "Suppose I was right about those heartfelt sentiments at least, huh?"