Ezra limped into the galley. His face was pinched, tired, and he was rubbing his backside like it hurt.
Zeb and Sabine greeted him as he entered. He waved anemically. It didn’t look like he’d gotten much sleep last night, but that was usually the case after he returned from a mission.
“What’d you do to yourself this time?” Zeb asked.
“Nothing,” Ezra said. “It was all Kanan. He knocked the bottom out of it last night.”
Sabine sprayed a mouthful of caf across the table. “What!?”
“The Phantom,” Ezra reiterated. He stood on his toes to reach a box of cereal on the top shelf. “He scraped the bottom of the fuselage on one of those rock pillars when we were coming home last night. It was a serious impact. Hurt my butt and my neck. I think I might have whiplash.”
Both Zeb and Sabine slumped and released huge sighs.
“Huh, that’s kinda strange,” said Sabine after reflecting. “Kanan’s typically a pretty good pilot.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too.” Ezra pawed cereal into his mouth and shook his head as he munched. “Guess that’s the last time I ever give him a handjob while we’re flying.”