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"Oi - flyboy. Got a sec?"
"You're already talking to me, Lieutenant Ryan. Might as well continue."
"Now we're cooking, LC. Been meaning to ask - what's it like? Flying... fighter pilot stuff, I mean. We don't get many of your lot out here. How's it compare to being at the helm of a ship? Closest I've been to a cockpit is looking through a forward blister on docking runs."

"...It's fast, and loud. You make one mistake and your name gets etched into the bulkhead with a screwdriver."
"Sounds mental, fam. But what's the brainfeel? Is it all reaction time and reflex, or do you actually think up there?"
"You think fast. Or you don't think at all."
"Huh. You know, I always imagined it'd be a bit... empty. A bit of metal between you and the void. At the helm, I've got mass. Crew. Feedback. Pressure. You've got what - two thrusters and an attitude?"
"And a gun. That usually helps."

"Yeah, alright mate. But think about it - when I'm flying Aria, every adjustment I make echoes through the ship. One degree here means a full shift in a firing solution. You? You jink and dodge like it's zero-g dodgeball. Feels like a sideshow. Theatre, not piloting."
"Funny, I don't remember asking what it feels like to sit behind a dashboard and pretend you're the ship."
"...There we go! You do have teeth under that 'quiet boy' exterior."
"Depends who's poking me."

"Alright. I say we find out. Sim bay's open. You in a Falcon. I take Aria. You win if you disable me. I win if I shoot you down with point defense."
"Aria's not exactly built for dogfighting."
"Exactly. So if I win, it means you're not as sharp as you think."
"And if I fly circles around you and take out your reactor in three strafing runs?"
"Hmm...Drinks on me for a week and I'll never question an Airy Fairy again."
"Better start that tab now, Helmsman Ryan."
"Heheh...Respect."