(If that made her soft… Cassian, as a student of [among others] Mon Mothma and Bail Organa, would argue it made her strong. All the moreso when the Empire would have been trying to program it out of her.
He felt her fingertips. Like reaching antennae, his fingers curled in, responding to and deepening the contact; until they slipped between each of hers and entwined them.
When had anyone last held his hand… it had been him holding theirs to give strength or comfort in desperation, and they would have known him as Fulcrum.
Ever else…? Ever not just in crisis but in… maybe? tenderness?
…and not a lie?
…this was still a lie. For all Cassian's (rather successful) espionage technique involving relying mainly on the truth, there was still the predicating lie. With that, there were lines he would not cross.
But perhaps he'd get well enough, help would reach them, he'd successfully get out and she'd still choose to go with him; perhaps then, when he corrected the lie, she would understand it.
Thinking too far ahead again. Usually he wasn't so bad about that. Usually he was good at separating when he couldn't afford and couldn't not afford to focus solely on the present.
Blame the injuries. Blame the drugs.
Blame whatever was doing with his neurons and nerves in the orbit of Jyn Erso.
He needed both to break this moment, but also sustain it. Maintain connection even if narrowing it down.
Solution: talking.
"Do you know where you'd go, if you could go anywhere? Where you'd want?"
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2019-09-01 09:09 am (UTC)He felt her fingertips. Like reaching antennae, his fingers curled in, responding to and deepening the contact; until they slipped between each of hers and entwined them.
When had anyone last held his hand… it had been him holding theirs to give strength or comfort in desperation, and they would have known him as Fulcrum.
Ever else…? Ever not just in crisis but in… maybe? tenderness?
…and not a lie?
…this was still a lie. For all Cassian's (rather successful) espionage technique involving relying mainly on the truth, there was still the predicating lie. With that, there were lines he would not cross.
But perhaps he'd get well enough, help would reach them, he'd successfully get out and she'd still choose to go with him; perhaps then, when he corrected the lie, she would understand it.
Thinking too far ahead again. Usually he wasn't so bad about that. Usually he was good at separating when he couldn't afford and couldn't not afford to focus solely on the present.
Blame the injuries. Blame the drugs.
Blame whatever was doing with his neurons and nerves in the orbit of Jyn Erso.
He needed both to break this moment, but also sustain it. Maintain connection even if narrowing it down.
Solution: talking.
"Do you know where you'd go, if you could go anywhere? Where you'd want?"