[ we've done terrible things on behalf of the rebellion, he'd said once. and the truth of it glimmers darkly in his eyes now, skates across his face in the slant of his brows, the tenseness about his mouth. in the sharp line of his shoulders as he looks her way, written in the scars across his knuckles. spies, saboteurs, assassins. that had been the most honest he'd been with her since meeting her, remains one of the most vulnerable sentiments he's ever expressed.

that is what he is. that is who he is. she has to know that; she has to know that better than anyone, even those here who have seen his heart. she'd come to know what he's capable of, in the damp and dark of eadu. and that's where he always belongs, in the end, those shadows. not public forums, public discussions, places where he would've given a report of his findings and quietly left. his recent address to bearers had been familiar in that way. this is not. ]

There's a reason I didn't report to Mon Mothma.

[ the very face of diplomacy in the alliance, if there is one, determined as she was to try peaceful solutions within the empire as long as they were possible. no, he was quickly sent to general draven for his skills. for the skills he developed, years with the rebellion. ]

It wasn't me that inspired the others to go to Scarif; this [ this kind of situation ] is where you shine.

[ chirrut would agree, he knows for sure. ]