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[rogue_wraith]

The front door bangs open and an admittedly slight man in full, obnoxious-orange flight gear stumbles through, all-over soot and grime. His flight goggles, pushed up onto his forehead, are nearly opaque with soot, and his still-gloved hands bear scorch marks. He's coughing fit to burst, having inhaled a good dose of the fumes from burning

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[nodistresshere]

When she enters Milliways from Coruscant, and Wedge is on campaign, Iella watches the door. It's a habit; one that has paid off handsomely in the past, and one that she's not about to break.

The flightsuit is impossible to miss.

She freezes for barely a split second.

A quick flurry of movement, a flash of blonde hair, and Iella is at Wedge's side, a full glass of water in hand and her other hand raising his chin, searching him for signs of serious injury. Her face is pale and close to his.

She doesn't trust her voice.

[rogue_wraith]

"Leave off and go see to my pilots." Wedge orders roughly, thinking Iella is yet another of the over-helpful medics that swarmed Rogue squadron the moment they touched down. He only caught a few lungfuls of bad air before the clearer reserves had kicked on through his mask - he'll survive, even if he's going to be deucedly uncomfortable for a while.

Of course, if he could see properly through tearing eyes and had a better fix on his location, his response would be somewhat different.

[nodistresshere]

"None of your pilots are here right now," says Iella, her voice calm and tight. "It's just you. And if you don't let me tend to you, Wedge Antilles, so help me, you are going to regret it."

[rogue_wraith]

"Iella?" His voice is still rough, but that's more due to the coughing than him being brusque. "If someone's gone and narced me into submission, I'm not sure if I'll have to thank them for a dream with you in," He rambles, interrupted at times by vicious fits of coughing, "Or shoot them for not doping me enough to ignore the state of my lungs."