[ Boba doesn’t miss the disapproval in the other clone’s body language. No doubt he’s mistaken Boba for another of the rank-and-file. Was it brotherly camaraderie the clone had expected? Or military deference? Either way, Boba can’t find it in himself to regret disappointing him.
Still, it seems they’d had similar instincts regarding the headstone. Boba glances back at the grave, at the name carved into its face that he, too, had tried to expose. His first assumption hadn’t been that it was a trick; it had been that he was seeing something that wasn’t really there. But if this clone had seen it, too… had someone really carved his father’s name into a crumbling headstone, untold parsecs from his actual resting place? And why?
Boba has to imagine that it had been planted here for him to find. Beyond that… the only reason he can think of for someone to do such a thing is to aggravate him—which makes it all the more unfortunate that it’s working.
So he steps away from the grave, a hard set to his jaw. Let the clone scrape the stone bare for all he cares. Boba won’t stop him.
He also won’t bother answering with a false name, this time. He’s done being Jaster Mereel—and even if he weren’t, he doesn’t want to risk being further mistaken for another of his father’s clones. ]
My name is Boba Fett. [ He watches the other clone as he says it, defiant and wary. ] I’m not one of you.
no subject
Still, it seems they’d had similar instincts regarding the headstone. Boba glances back at the grave, at the name carved into its face that he, too, had tried to expose. His first assumption hadn’t been that it was a trick; it had been that he was seeing something that wasn’t really there. But if this clone had seen it, too… had someone really carved his father’s name into a crumbling headstone, untold parsecs from his actual resting place? And why?
Boba has to imagine that it had been planted here for him to find. Beyond that… the only reason he can think of for someone to do such a thing is to aggravate him—which makes it all the more unfortunate that it’s working.
So he steps away from the grave, a hard set to his jaw. Let the clone scrape the stone bare for all he cares. Boba won’t stop him.
He also won’t bother answering with a false name, this time. He’s done being Jaster Mereel—and even if he weren’t, he doesn’t want to risk being further mistaken for another of his father’s clones. ]
My name is Boba Fett. [ He watches the other clone as he says it, defiant and wary. ] I’m not one of you.