He actually grinned. "I accept I'm probably going to." Was playing intellectual games a good or a bad re: getting over a concussion? Keeping the mind active or overworking it? Whatever, they could always stop. He handed the datapad back to her. "You do the honors?"
"So, we'll play best two out of three and see what happens", she replied, shrugging nonchalantly, even as her eyes glittered mischievously. "Alright, sit up, get comfortable. I'll get us started."
Carefully, she accepted the offered datapad, and with the appropriate swipes and keystrokes, pulled up the game. "Choose your fighter."
Steeling himself, he pressed his palms to the cot and pushed himself carefully upright. His ribs protested a little, but having a goal and the promise of diversion helped considerably. He leaned back against the wall. He was breathing a little harder, but overall, not bad. A sliver of his smile returned as he glanced at her.
"The Kintan Strider." He could do with some regeneration. *
Jyn quietly observed Gabrael sit, slowly and carefully, a little winded when all was said and done, but without requiring her help. That was a good thing. Hopefully, it meant that his body was beginning to regain some strength. He'd need it if he wanted to heal properly.
"The Strider, okay", she answered, humming softly as she scrolled through the other options to make her own choice. "I'm going with the Monnok this time around."
A few last keystrokes and she set the pad between them, the holo-board flickering into life, the little avatars ready and waiting to begin. "You first."
Cassian's playing style was hard to pin down. He seemed to keep switching between cautious and provocative. That was because he played dejarik the same way he treated spycraft (or vice-versa): less about imposing himself on a situation and more about learning and adapting to the style of the other player.
Jyn switched between bold, brash moves that almost certainly looked like they would spell disaster and carefully crafty and cunning as she watched and waited to see what her opponent would do, taking time to figure out what she should do to counter. She laughed as her latest move narrowly avoided coming to an abrupt end. "You're good, Gabrael, I'll give you that."
He didn't usually enjoy games, for all he'd been the one to suggest it. The strategizing, maneuvering, being adversarial… it felt too much like work. But this time, it was fun. He and Jyn were incredibly well-matched. It felt, rather than competitive, almost… cooperative. They were making a pattern together.
They were building to something he started to suspect would be a draw. At risk of throwing the game, but too curious to see how she reacted, Cassian made an audacious move—like one of hers.
Ordinarily, Jyn didn't like games like these (and certainly didn't have the patience to sit and carefully consider all of her options for each and every move made), but this wasn't frustrating or bothersome. She actually found herself having a good time -
Especially the give-and-take of the game, the way they traded off being impulsive and taking their time. She truly did not ever know what was going to come next, and that was an exciting feeling.
She almost laughed in triumph as he made his next move, but her hand stilled as she considered what she was going to do in return. "I can't decide if you're trying to trick me or not - ", she mused, glancing from the datapad up at Gabrael. "Because if I counter you here ... there's a very real chance that you can capture my piece. But if I don't block you there, I leave you open to steamrolling me elsewhere. Hm ... "
In the end, she didn't take the easier path. She moved her piece face-to-face with his. Now, all she could do was wait to see what he'd do next.
Through the ache and haze of injury, Cassian felt his face make its first effortless smile. Like her move pleased him. "Unless it's my concussion, I think that's stalemate." —Like he was happy about the game being a draw. And he was. The interest and momentum here wasn't about winning, it was enjoying how well they were matched.
Ordinarily, Jyn wouldn't accept a stalemate, but in this case, there truly was no other move that she could have made that wouldn't have resulted in a resounding loss. But this was just for fun, there were no bets placed on the outcome. She could enjoy it for what it had been meant to be.
"If that was you playing with a concussion", she said, sitting back with a sigh, "Then I would hate to see you play with all your faculties intact."
"Not sure there'd be a big difference," he said, oddly self-consciously flattered. "It's trying to focus on more than one thing at a time that's currently hurting." Speaking of, he belatedly reaches for the painkillers. He should probably sleep more, but it was hard to want to ask her to leave.
"Suppose we'll just have to wait and see", Jyn replied, shrugging. Who knew if there would actually be a re-match, much less a tomorrow, but it was kind of nice to think that there might be. Gabrael went for the painkillers, Jyn reached for the water. He needed to rest, that much was obvious. But she was having a hard time getting up and leaving him to his lonesome.
The painkillers made his head a little foggy, normally why he disliked them. Right now, it felt all right. Maybe because he felt unaccountably (ludicrously, not earned) safe with her here.
"Will you stay for a while?" he heard himself ask. (Him, a soldier since six, on his own since earlier, eternally solitary? He was actually asking this? Of her?) "Talk to me— 'til I fall asleep?"
He belatedly thought, he could take the opportunity to ask her relevant questions and see how many she'd answer; gather some intel, at least, about this facility. And not examine too closely how this thought of serving the mission felt less like the ulterior motive and more like the excuse just to keep talking to her.
Ridiculously enough ... Jyn felt comfortable here, too, with a relative stranger than she'd felt the entire time she had been stationed at Carbon Ridge. Was she going soft? Or maybe even crazy?
But hearing him ask her to stay in that hazy, soft voice - there was little for Jyn to do but reply an equally soft 'yes'. He didn't need to know how lonely she was, how often she ached for some sort of real companionship that didn't revolve around what she could do for them in return.
"Okay", Jyn sighed, moving over and settling, waiting for Gabrael to get comfortable as well - he was the one that needed the rest, after all, and needed to lie down to find it. "What do you want to know?"
He was so focused on keeping his guard up in other ways, all shields were down elsewhere; and he very nearly reached out to take her hand. What stopped him may have been less reasonable caution as… shyness, maybe? Kark knew.
What did he want to know…? There was what he should want—the precise nature and intent of this facility, its success level at that intent, its place in the larger infrastructure—and should be able to find a way to ask about nonchalantly. But then there was what he was actually interested in, that seemed so much easier to articulate, both in character and… at all… "What's your life like, here, Jyn Erso? What's one of your days like?"
The thing was - Jyn would've accepted the gesture. For as self-sufficient as she had been forced to be for most of her life ... she still desperately wanted a little genuine human affection. She felt so weak whenever the loneliness bubbled up from time to time, but it was there, always lurking just past the surface of what she hoped was a cool, confident facade.
Gabrael asked. Jyn laughed. But she canted her head to the side also, and shrugged gently. "I don't think that's very interesting at all. Ah - I get up just after dawn to work out and have breakfast before my turn on comms. Lunch. A quick rest, and then whatever other duties I've been assigned for the day - mostly electrical or janitorial. Dinner. Back to my quarters to ponder where I went wrong in my life, but now instead of that ... I come here, with you."
She smiled slightly, sitting straighter once again. "I hate it here."
That was a little more honest than she'd wanted to be, but ... it wasn't as though she had anyone else to talk to. And Gabrael probably wasn't going to judge her for it.
He listened intently, mouth occasionally curving just slightly but in unmistakable sympathy. "That sounds familiar to me too." It certainly would to Gabrael Willix. But several other of Cassian's identities—including his real one—had also been the low grunt on the totem pole.
"If I get out of here," he said quietly, "and you haven't changed your mind, I hope we can get you get somewhere you don't hate at all." Maybe even with me.
It was amazing… to mutually plan like this. Not worried about it being a trick or a trap. It would make no sense, for her to do it to him: he was at her total mercy anyway, what would be the point? Psychological torture, he supposed. Even so: nothing important to loose. He was giving no information that wasn't already obvious to her and those hunting him. The only risk was his spirit. But it wouldn't break him, if this was all a trap. It would just suck kark. And if she was just testing him… again, pretty low stakes.
Though… he was finding himself liking her. A lot. It was… so rare, it felt like an experience to value; something everyone should have at least once in their lives. Even if it ended very badly… he thought he'd be glad to have had it, unexpectedly, once, at all.
Okay. Definitely drug-loopy.
And now, not just reflexively, but actually making the decision, he put out his hand toward her and offered it palm-up. So she could decide whether to take it at all, in the manner of a bargain, or… just hold.
It felt good to be ... understood. It wasn't as though Jyn had made a cadre of friends here, nor had she been looking to. She wanted to keep her head down, do the jobs she was assigned, do her time, and get off of this hellish planet.
True, she didn't know where she would go or what she would do or if she would be welcomed back to her old position. She also didn't know if she even wanted to go back, now that she had begun questioning why it was they were doing what they did ... and if she wanted to be party to any of it anymore.
So ... the reiteration that if Gabrael was rescued, Jyn could still go with meant a lot - more than she knew how to put into words. She nodded her agreement, though, and shared what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
She wasn't trying to trap him. It didn't make sense to lull him into a false sense of security and then give up his location so he could be taken into custody when she could have done the same thing a day earlier when he was even more out of sorts due to his concussion and other injuries. No, this - being kind to him, helping him - was being done because Jyn felt it was the right thing to do. If that made her soft, then fine, she was going soft.
But ... she kind of liked him, too. More than she had anticipated, and it felt so rare and so ... out of the ordinary that even if it didn't last, Jyn wanted to hold on for as long as she could.
He offered his hand. Tentatively, she reached out, touching fingertips to fingertips, testing the waters.
(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?"
Jyn's teachers - and the Empire as a whole - would argue that it made her weak. But she didn't know how to turn off her capacity for caring about people, and quite honestly, the thought of not being able to ever turn it back on again frightened her more than she would like to admit.
Maybe she just hadn't been made for Imperial life. Maybe, more and more, she was realizing that perhaps her path was diverging from the one she was expected to stay on, that maybe she was beginning to stray into something entirely unknown.
He accepted the exploratory touch and escalated it until their fingers were wound together in a way that she was certain that she had never experienced before. Her parents had held her hands at various points in her childhood, of course, but those felt so markedly different that she didn't really know how to process anything other than how much she didn't want to have to let go.
Funny how she hadn't realized how much she needed the comfort and reassurance until she had offered it first. Jyn needed a moment to clear her head, so for a moment, she didn't respond to the question at hand.
Instead, she tried to catch the breath that had been stolen from her and steady the erratic beating of her heart, and try to appear as though she wasn't nearly as affected by the touch as she was.
She was fine. This was nothing. Certainly not anything to give any thought at later. Certainly not something to wonder about in terms of when rescue arrived, not if, because he certainly hadn't meant with him as in with him and she was ...
...
Kriff, she was being utterly ridiculous.
"Ah - ", she eventually offered, shrugging gently. "I don't know. I haven't seen my father in years and at this point, I don't know if either of us want to see each other. I guess I'd just have to ... find a place to belong."
He wasn't trying to monitor her pulse; but his fingers nearest her wrist felt it a bit nonetheless. Its acceleration made an echo in his own.
Hadn't he thought, a game of dejarik ago, he should wait at least a day before suggesting anything like—?
"If you wanted it," he said softly, "my people can always find a place for someone with your skills. You could give us a test drive. We could still drop you off somewhere else later, if you decided you didn't like us."
(And what "people" was Ord Mantell deepdock liaison Gabrael Willix supposed to have? It was a risk. It wasn't too late for her to change her mind and turn him in, on discovering he might be someone of Imperial interest after all. Like, y'know, a Rebel.)
Old habits. At least it wasn't very obvious that was what he was doing. As for Jyn ... it had just been a long time since she'd shared such intimate contact with anyone. It was just a little overwhelming - but Jyn did not let go.
She was silent as she listened to Gabrael's offer, and took her time in pondering it. Jyn Erso was not a particularly naive woman, and knew that there was an underlying layer to it - and that it probably mean that he was affiliated with the Rebels if not an outright part of them.
But -
"My nursing skills?", she gently teased. "Do you get into enough trouble to warrant keeping me around?"
All teasing aside, after another quiet moment, she spoke up again. "You think your people would accept someone like me?"
He didn't respond to the teasing question. She'd already demonstrated other skills: tactical thinking regarding the communication codes, a level of subterfuge in getting him supplies (assuming, again, this wasn't all a setup, but it was a pretty well-founded assumption), and even her dejarik playing spoke of applicable talent.
To the real question: "Yes." Dare he say we welcome defectors just yet? That would really shout 'Rebels'.
Possibly to deflect a little—more possibly not—his thumb moved slightly on her skin. And he said a little more quietly, "And I'd vouch for you."
It had mostly been meant as distraction, anyway, and clearly, Gabrael hadn't fallen for it. Impressive, considering the injuries he was still grappling with. But if he wanted a serious answer (it was too soon to give him one, wasn't it, too soon to decide the trajectory of the rest of her life?), Jyn supposed she couldn't try to deflect.
"You'd be taking a a big chance - ", she murmured, breathing slightly erratic. "You don't even know me."
Nothing but trouble. A thorn in the higher ups' sides. Not worth taking that chance on.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
Carefully, she accepted the offered datapad, and with the appropriate swipes and keystrokes, pulled up the game. "Choose your fighter."
no subject
"The Kintan Strider." He could do with some regeneration. *
no subject
"The Strider, okay", she answered, humming softly as she scrolled through the other options to make her own choice. "I'm going with the Monnok this time around."
A few last keystrokes and she set the pad between them, the holo-board flickering into life, the little avatars ready and waiting to begin. "You first."
no subject
no subject
no subject
He didn't usually enjoy games, for all he'd been the one to suggest it. The strategizing, maneuvering, being adversarial… it felt too much like work. But this time, it was fun. He and Jyn were incredibly well-matched. It felt, rather than competitive, almost… cooperative. They were making a pattern together.
They were building to something he started to suspect would be a draw. At risk of throwing the game, but too curious to see how she reacted, Cassian made an audacious move—like one of hers.
no subject
Especially the give-and-take of the game, the way they traded off being impulsive and taking their time. She truly did not ever know what was going to come next, and that was an exciting feeling.
She almost laughed in triumph as he made his next move, but her hand stilled as she considered what she was going to do in return. "I can't decide if you're trying to trick me or not - ", she mused, glancing from the datapad up at Gabrael. "Because if I counter you here ... there's a very real chance that you can capture my piece. But if I don't block you there, I leave you open to steamrolling me elsewhere. Hm ... "
In the end, she didn't take the easier path. She moved her piece face-to-face with his. Now, all she could do was wait to see what he'd do next.
no subject
no subject
"If that was you playing with a concussion", she said, sitting back with a sigh, "Then I would hate to see you play with all your faculties intact."
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Will you stay for a while?" he heard himself ask. (Him, a soldier since six, on his own since earlier, eternally solitary? He was actually asking this? Of her?) "Talk to me— 'til I fall asleep?"
He belatedly thought, he could take the opportunity to ask her relevant questions and see how many she'd answer; gather some intel, at least, about this facility. And not examine too closely how this thought of serving the mission felt less like the ulterior motive and more like the excuse just to keep talking to her.
no subject
But hearing him ask her to stay in that hazy, soft voice - there was little for Jyn to do but reply an equally soft 'yes'. He didn't need to know how lonely she was, how often she ached for some sort of real companionship that didn't revolve around what she could do for them in return.
"Okay", Jyn sighed, moving over and settling, waiting for Gabrael to get comfortable as well - he was the one that needed the rest, after all, and needed to lie down to find it. "What do you want to know?"
no subject
What did he want to know…? There was what he should want—the precise nature and intent of this facility, its success level at that intent, its place in the larger infrastructure—and should be able to find a way to ask about nonchalantly. But then there was what he was actually interested in, that seemed so much easier to articulate, both in character and… at all… "What's your life like, here, Jyn Erso? What's one of your days like?"
no subject
Gabrael asked. Jyn laughed. But she canted her head to the side also, and shrugged gently. "I don't think that's very interesting at all. Ah - I get up just after dawn to work out and have breakfast before my turn on comms. Lunch. A quick rest, and then whatever other duties I've been assigned for the day - mostly electrical or janitorial. Dinner. Back to my quarters to ponder where I went wrong in my life, but now instead of that ... I come here, with you."
She smiled slightly, sitting straighter once again. "I hate it here."
That was a little more honest than she'd wanted to be, but ... it wasn't as though she had anyone else to talk to. And Gabrael probably wasn't going to judge her for it.
no subject
He listened intently, mouth occasionally curving just slightly but in unmistakable sympathy. "That sounds familiar to me too." It certainly would to Gabrael Willix. But several other of Cassian's identities—including his real one—had also been the low grunt on the totem pole.
"If I get out of here," he said quietly, "and you haven't changed your mind, I hope we can get you get somewhere you don't hate at all." Maybe even with me.
It was amazing… to mutually plan like this. Not worried about it being a trick or a trap. It would make no sense, for her to do it to him: he was at her total mercy anyway, what would be the point? Psychological torture, he supposed. Even so: nothing important to loose. He was giving no information that wasn't already obvious to her and those hunting him. The only risk was his spirit. But it wouldn't break him, if this was all a trap. It would just suck kark. And if she was just testing him… again, pretty low stakes.
Though… he was finding himself liking her. A lot. It was… so rare, it felt like an experience to value; something everyone should have at least once in their lives. Even if it ended very badly… he thought he'd be glad to have had it, unexpectedly, once, at all.
Okay. Definitely drug-loopy.
And now, not just reflexively, but actually making the decision, he put out his hand toward her and offered it palm-up. So she could decide whether to take it at all, in the manner of a bargain, or… just hold.
no subject
True, she didn't know where she would go or what she would do or if she would be welcomed back to her old position. She also didn't know if she even wanted to go back, now that she had begun questioning why it was they were doing what they did ... and if she wanted to be party to any of it anymore.
So ... the reiteration that if Gabrael was rescued, Jyn could still go with meant a lot - more than she knew how to put into words. She nodded her agreement, though, and shared what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
She wasn't trying to trap him. It didn't make sense to lull him into a false sense of security and then give up his location so he could be taken into custody when she could have done the same thing a day earlier when he was even more out of sorts due to his concussion and other injuries. No, this - being kind to him, helping him - was being done because Jyn felt it was the right thing to do. If that made her soft, then fine, she was going soft.
But ... she kind of liked him, too. More than she had anticipated, and it felt so rare and so ... out of the ordinary that even if it didn't last, Jyn wanted to hold on for as long as she could.
He offered his hand. Tentatively, she reached out, touching fingertips to fingertips, testing the waters.
no subject
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?"
no subject
Maybe she just hadn't been made for Imperial life. Maybe, more and more, she was realizing that perhaps her path was diverging from the one she was expected to stay on, that maybe she was beginning to stray into something entirely unknown.
He accepted the exploratory touch and escalated it until their fingers were wound together in a way that she was certain that she had never experienced before. Her parents had held her hands at various points in her childhood, of course, but those felt so markedly different that she didn't really know how to process anything other than how much she didn't want to have to let go.
Funny how she hadn't realized how much she needed the comfort and reassurance until she had offered it first. Jyn needed a moment to clear her head, so for a moment, she didn't respond to the question at hand.
Instead, she tried to catch the breath that had been stolen from her and steady the erratic beating of her heart, and try to appear as though she wasn't nearly as affected by the touch as she was.
She was fine. This was nothing. Certainly not anything to give any thought at later. Certainly not something to wonder about in terms of when rescue arrived, not if, because he certainly hadn't meant with him as in with him and she was ...
...
Kriff, she was being utterly ridiculous.
"Ah - ", she eventually offered, shrugging gently. "I don't know. I haven't seen my father in years and at this point, I don't know if either of us want to see each other. I guess I'd just have to ... find a place to belong."
no subject
Hadn't he thought, a game of dejarik ago, he should wait at least a day before suggesting anything like—?
"If you wanted it," he said softly, "my people can always find a place for someone with your skills. You could give us a test drive. We could still drop you off somewhere else later, if you decided you didn't like us."
(And what "people" was Ord Mantell deepdock liaison Gabrael Willix supposed to have? It was a risk. It wasn't too late for her to change her mind and turn him in, on discovering he might be someone of Imperial interest after all. Like, y'know, a Rebel.)
no subject
She was silent as she listened to Gabrael's offer, and took her time in pondering it. Jyn Erso was not a particularly naive woman, and knew that there was an underlying layer to it - and that it probably mean that he was affiliated with the Rebels if not an outright part of them.
But -
"My nursing skills?", she gently teased. "Do you get into enough trouble to warrant keeping me around?"
All teasing aside, after another quiet moment, she spoke up again. "You think your people would accept someone like me?"
no subject
To the real question: "Yes." Dare he say we welcome defectors just yet? That would really shout 'Rebels'.
Possibly to deflect a little—more possibly not—his thumb moved slightly on her skin. And he said a little more quietly, "And I'd vouch for you."
no subject
"You'd be taking a a big chance - ", she murmured, breathing slightly erratic. "You don't even know me."
Nothing but trouble. A thorn in the higher ups' sides. Not worth taking that chance on.
"You sure you want to do that?"
no subject
But the answer was still: "Yeah. I do."
A belated grasp at rationality. "Don't have to decide right now. …I mean. Gonna be a while before I go anywhere."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)