Poe yanks his hand back on instinct, for a moment entirely convinced that John was about to take his fingers off.
John isn't wrong about Poe's survival. Charm and charisma are their own kinds of weapons, ones he wields with unconscious skill.
"At least I'm not from a planet named dirt, unlike some people."
He retrieves a napkin, displaying it for John before he wipes his fingers again and then promptly ruins it by picking up two more pork rinds. He stuffs one in his mouth and offers the other to John.
He still hasn't decided if he likes them or not. But John is eating them, and John eats like a whisper bird, so it's more than worth the greasy fingers.
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John isn't wrong about Poe's survival. Charm and charisma are their own kinds of weapons, ones he wields with unconscious skill.
"At least I'm not from a planet named dirt, unlike some people."
He retrieves a napkin, displaying it for John before he wipes his fingers again and then promptly ruins it by picking up two more pork rinds. He stuffs one in his mouth and offers the other to John.
He still hasn't decided if he likes them or not. But John is eating them, and John eats like a whisper bird, so it's more than worth the greasy fingers.