Work Text:
Hound finds Fives attempting to commandeer a municipal cleaning droid outside 79’s.
The droid is moving at approximately four kilometers per hour.
Fives is riding it backward, holding a half-empty bottle of tihaar in one hand and wearing a flashing traffic beacon as a hat.
Jesse jogs beside him, laughing too hard to provide meaningful assistance.
Grizzer stops in the middle of the walkway.
Hound stops with her.
The cleaning droid bumps into a public bench, reverses automatically, and begins carrying Fives directly toward them.
“Hound!” Fives calls. “Great news.”
Hound never received great news from a drunk ARC trooper.
“Get off the droid.”
“I’m relocating it.”
“You’re stealing it.”
“Borrowing.”
“The municipal crest is still attached.”
“That’s how they’ll know where to find it later.”
The droid reaches Hound and stops because Grizzer is blocking its path. Fives leans sideways to look around her.
Grizzer sniffs the bottle.
“No,” Hound tells her.
Fives hugs the alcohol protectively to his chest. “Thank you.”
“I was speaking to the massiff.”
“That hurts.”
“Get down.”
Fives raises one finger.
“Don’t worry. I have a permit.”
Hound closes his eyes.
Of course he does.
Fives digs through his pockets, producing two ration wrappers, a Sabacc card, one glove that clearly belongs to Echo, and a folded piece of flimsi stained with something purple.
He hands it over with great dignity.
Hound opens it.
Written across the center in thick black marker are the words:
I CAN DO WHAT I WANT.
A rough drawing of the Republic seal sits beneath the sentence. Someone has added what may be General Skywalker’s signature, although the name is spelled with three Ys.
Hound looks at Fives.
“This just says, ‘I can do what I want.’”
Fives nods. “That’s the permit.”
“That isn’t a permit.”
“It says I can do what I want.”
“You wrote it yourself.”
“Then I know it’s authentic.”
Jesse collapses against the bench.
Hound turns the flimsi over.
On the back, smaller writing reads:
AUTHORIZED BY CAPTAIN REX, PROBABLY.
“Captain Rex didn’t authorize this.”
“You didn’t ask him.”
“I don’t need to.”
“That doesn’t sound like due process.”
Hound reaches for Fives.
Fives lifts both feet and tucks them onto the droid.
“You can’t arrest me. I’m on a vehicle.”
“That has never prevented an arrest.”
“It’s diplomatic transport.”
“It cleans pavement.”
“Diplomatically.”
Grizzer takes the permit from Hound’s hand.
Fives gasps.
“No, that’s an official document.”
Grizzer chews twice and swallows it.
Hound scratches her head.
“Evidence disposed of.”
Fives stares at the massiff in betrayal.
“She ate my rights.”
“You never had those rights.”
“I had them in writing.”
Jesse is now sitting on the ground.
The cleaning droid attempts to reverse again. Fives loses his balance and slides off, landing directly in Hound’s arms.
Hound catches him by reflex.
Fives blinks up at him.
“Hello.”
“You’re under arrest.”
“For what?”
“Theft, public intoxication, forged authorization, interfering with municipal equipment, and crimes against spelling.”
“That last one feels personal.”
“It is.”
Hound sets him upright.
Fives immediately leans against Grizzer.
Grizzer tolerates this because he smells like dried meat.
Jesse pushes himself off the ground.
“Are we going to the drunk tank?”
“You are.”
“Can we bring the droid?”
“No.”
Fives points solemnly at the cleaning droid.
“It knows too much.”
The droid rotates, sprays his boots with soapy water, and rolls away.
Hound watches it disappear down the walkway.
Fives looks at his wet feet.
“Can I file a complaint?”
“You can file it with Captain Rex.”
Fives goes pale.
“Actually, prison’s fine.”