or, at least, all of the attention he can muster. it's still no small thing, the full force of his intensity, but a thing that jyn might be used to, by now. it's been a long time since he's looked at her with anything less. he watches her, and he listens, and a glimmer of humor unfurls in his eyes, softens the set of his mouth. it's so easy to imagine her doing this. it's so easy to imagine her pride — and scorn — at being so much the richer after outsmarting an officer. ]
Stupid, [ he agrees, at length, flickers of warmth in his voice.
he tilts until he's able to rest his head at her shoulder again, hair tickling at her neck. this bare spark of warmth he feels now seems like it must be coming from her. a small, flickering flame she lends him from the story she tells, from the heat of her body; the warmth from being at her side, from her shoulder, from her hand in his. his nails had dug half-moons into both of his palms, earlier, and maybe she can feel that now, though he doesn't think of it. he thinks of her. that's so much more easily done than anything else.
though he lapses back into silence, for a time, there's a different quality to it. less hopelessly lost, for one thing, like his body might be here but his mind is years and parsecs away. she's his anchor, in this moment, keeping him grounded here. but there's something else too: the awareness of jyn means the reminder of her worry. she must be worried. of course she's worried. and he wants to say something to her. and he doesn't want to give her an empty lie they'd both see through. and...and, the thought arises, he doesn't want a near stranger in this world to have a fragment of him that jyn doesn't. he hadn't had a choice in amos seeing what he did. he does have a choice now.
his lips part, and he breathes out at her shoulder. and, finally, he says so softly, ]
I had a sister.
[ he says every word slowly, carefully. as gently as if they're something fragile that might shatter as soon as he gives them breath. someone else might say that to begin an explanation, but that's as much of one as he can bear. ]
no subject
or, at least, all of the attention he can muster. it's still no small thing, the full force of his intensity, but a thing that jyn might be used to, by now. it's been a long time since he's looked at her with anything less. he watches her, and he listens, and a glimmer of humor unfurls in his eyes, softens the set of his mouth. it's so easy to imagine her doing this. it's so easy to imagine her pride — and scorn — at being so much the richer after outsmarting an officer. ]
Stupid, [ he agrees, at length, flickers of warmth in his voice.
he tilts until he's able to rest his head at her shoulder again, hair tickling at her neck. this bare spark of warmth he feels now seems like it must be coming from her. a small, flickering flame she lends him from the story she tells, from the heat of her body; the warmth from being at her side, from her shoulder, from her hand in his. his nails had dug half-moons into both of his palms, earlier, and maybe she can feel that now, though he doesn't think of it. he thinks of her. that's so much more easily done than anything else.
though he lapses back into silence, for a time, there's a different quality to it. less hopelessly lost, for one thing, like his body might be here but his mind is years and parsecs away. she's his anchor, in this moment, keeping him grounded here. but there's something else too: the awareness of jyn means the reminder of her worry. she must be worried. of course she's worried. and he wants to say something to her. and he doesn't want to give her an empty lie they'd both see through. and...and, the thought arises, he doesn't want a near stranger in this world to have a fragment of him that jyn doesn't. he hadn't had a choice in amos seeing what he did. he does have a choice now.
his lips part, and he breathes out at her shoulder. and, finally, he says so softly, ]
I had a sister.
[ he says every word slowly, carefully. as gently as if they're something fragile that might shatter as soon as he gives them breath. someone else might say that to begin an explanation, but that's as much of one as he can bear. ]