She was watched with what must have looked like intent. And while he certainly provided no visible reaction and no comment, it was very much the case that he stared a little while she moved to sit. It was likely not intended to be suggestive but it did provoke an idle imagination all the same. Despite that, he refused to dwell and stood up to straighten out and carefully step out of the pilot's seat.
While his presence hardly ever come across as otherworldly, in a place like this it did seem like he was an enigma. At least on the outside, he appeared picture perfect. Well groomed, well mannered, and graceful when in motion. This was in absolute contrast to his far more simple peers that preferred to openly be as they were. No, this felt like the sort of man who would have worn a suit to work, the business kind and not for flight. It begged the question of why he was here, or perhaps more importantly how he got here.
With his feet on the base's flooring rather than the plating of the cockpit, he angled his head up to look at Sarita. His eyes were an oddly specific shade of blue, especially when observed for long enough under proper light. Almost as if hand picked somehow. Contacts could be quickly ruled out on closer inspection. "I hate to spoil a good impression. But that's not real leather. While I do appreciate the aesthetic of a leather seat, I don't appreciate the potential discomfort it can cause. And since I was never on good terms with the Commonwealth or whatever tinpot successor took its place, buying whatever they had to sell wasn't on my list of things to do." With this amused confession out of the way, he gestured for her to feel free about personally inspecting the interior of the ship.
"This was one of the first the workshops built. Some of the kinks they ironed out in the later batches were still present when I got it. Had to work them out myself, made lots of changes along the way. You can see for yourself." Evidently the foremost among those changes was the drastic swap of the controls he hinted at prior to this exhibition. From a cursory glance at another Rebel which was nearby and vacant, the interiors were so different it would have felt like Sarita was looking at two distinct iterations of the same ship. This culture of individualism seemed pervasive here. If only slightly outdone by the extreme dedication, bordering on fanaticism, to a shared goal.
