Boba listens intently, dismay growing as Dustin's list of failed attempts gets longer and longer. Some of the things the boy lists off are ideas that Boba himself had been considering. Of course, they get shot down just as quickly as the rest. By the time Dustin cuts off partway through the list, Boba feels almost sick with dread.

"No," Boba growls, voice quieter than it had been before. "I've fucking got it."

He doesn't actually know what that word means, but he's got a pretty good idea of the frustration it's supposed to express. Silently, he sits himself on the hangar floor beneath the obsolete ship, feeling like his mind is somehow both racing and utterly blank. He mutters, almost under his breath:

"What am I supposed to do now?