Who are you? Why are you doing this? …But the answers didn't actually matter in this moment. If she was trying to trick him… there was really no need, he was at her mercy. If she was just playing with him, same. If she was trying to help, he'd get those answers when there weren't more pressing concerns.
He took her hand. And tried not to lean on her too heavily as his legs petitioned for dismissal.
Jyn didn't know if she had any real answers - she just knew that deep inside, she couldn't stomach the thought of turning over a possibly innocent person into the hands of people who wouldn't think twice about torturing him. She'd be complicit in it, and she didn't know if she could withstand the guilt.
And that was if she didn't get caught. If she did, she'd be right there with him, and maybe this wasn't an acceptable risk to take, but she had to attempt it just the same. What if he had family to return to? A sweetheart somewhere? Friends and colleagues that would always wonder why he hadn't come home?
She tried to be careful of potential injuries as she wrapped an arm around his middle for leverage, taking a step forward, hoping he could follow. "Come on. Walk. You can rest once we're inside."
It was slow going, and Jyn had to stop several times, afraid that he was going to keel over and take her with him, but eventually, they made it inside the building - one of the rarely used warehouses, and Jyn tried to figure out as quickly as she could where the best place was for him to rest.
In the furthermost corner, there was a small enough empty space to allow for a little bit of a hiding place, should anyone enter and look around. The empty pallet wouldn't exactly be comfortable, but she was already considering whether or not she could get her hands on some blankets, at least, anything that might help him rest a little more comfortably.
Right now, she just wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to die on her watch.
"I know this isn't ideal", she muttered, leading him to the disused corner, urging him to sit or lay, "But it's what we've got. Try to stay alive, alright? I'll be back when I can."
Cassian accepted her lead, once again, in lowering himself slowly down. But before he released his grip on her arm, it momentarily tightened. He looked into her face to ask, at last, hoarsely, "Why are you helping me? Who are you?"
Good question - and one that Jyn still didn't know the answer to. What could she possibly get out of disobeying orders? And why would she risk anything on a complete stranger?
"I don't know - ", she answered, completely honestly. "I just couldn't leave you out there to die."
Or leave the others to hasten his demise along, and probably in the most sadistic ways.
Erso. Did he know that name…? His recall was impaired, too much of his brain diverted at the moment to pain suppression and staying consciousAnd on that front… he was rapidly failing…
His hand stayed a moment longer on her arm. "Jyn Erso," he repeated.
Whether he would have reciprocated with his name (and which one) was uncertain. His hand went loose and slipped away from her.
But he managed, before sinking under the waves again, to breathe—however premature, however she might still prove to be tricking him: "Thank you."
Jyn wasn't expecting much conversation and wasn't exactly surprised when she did not receive a name in reciprocation. Truly, she was impressed that he hadn't promptly passed out once she'd helped ease him down onto the pallet.
She couldn't even imagine the pain that he must have been in. And while she was no medic, Jyn was already making a mental list of all the supplies she would have to find a way to bring when she returned later, medkit included.
She watched as he slipped back into unconsciousness and sighed before informing the others that C-33 was also clear.
"Stand down and return to your posts. Looks like the desert probably got them."
All Jyn could hope for when she returned was to find that he hadn't died in the time she'd been away. "Just hold on, alright?", she murmured, even though she knew he couldn't hear.
said— —a Caridan caregiver when he cried for Jeron —Lyyxo as they pulled one another up the obsidian mountain —Khryw smoothing back his sweat-soaked hair as they removed shrapnel from his back —Narede as he tried to stop trembling because it was messing up his aim —Xilo as she rode him through the bombardment-shaking of the bunker —d'Djiera, under the stars —Maddell when he demanded she answer —Linat when he told her time's up —Aune as he tried to leave the room —Mothma when he said he didn't know how
—"Jyn Erso", saving his life?
It was a good thing Cassian rarely talked in his sleep; and a good thing he was incoherent when he did. Who knows what ammunition he could have provided an enemy that overheard him otherwise.
Hours later, once Jyn's work shift was done and over with and she had managed to procure as many supplies as she could without arousing suspicion, she took the long walk from the main buildings back to C-33, keeping to the shadows to keep from getting caught.
He was still there when she returned - not dead, but also not awake, his breathing labored and whatever noises he was making were more pained and less intelligible. She sat her pack down and soon followed, careful as she removed each item she had been able to liberate, taking stock and making plans for her next supply run.
She couldn't maneuver him in order to get a (too-thin) blanket underneath him, so for the moment, she contented herself with wetting a cloth and cooling his forehead, just in case he was feverish.
He wasn't so far gone that the touch didn't make him start upright and reach for a weapon (that wasn't there). But doing so set off blasterbursts of pain through his abdomen and made dizzy bruises blacken his sight. He managed enough lucidity to remember what had happened and recognize Jyn Erso, and so let himself crumple back down.
"You came back," he breathed, possibly nonsensically. And, apparently, alone.
Jyn could have taken care of herself if need be, but she was glad that it hadn't had to come to that. She just paused in her ministrations, pulled her hand back, and waited until the panic had passed and he settled back onto the pallet, which she was sure wasn't helping the pain he was already in.
"Yes, I did", she replied, reaching for the canteen of water that she'd made sure to bring along. "Come on, I'm sure you're parched."
Absokarkinglutely. Trying to go upright again was a terrible idea, so he tried turning a bit onto his side—which was better, as long as he didn't narrow the focus of weight too much. It wouldn't be exactly dignified, but he'd be able to drink without everything spilling out.
Jyn felt for him, she truly did. It seemed that no matter which way he moved, he was still in tremendous pain. She did her best to accommodate him with the canteen, but there was no stopping a little spillage from occurring.
"Can you tell me what happened?", she asked, glancing down at the supplies she had on hand, pondering her next action. "Do you remember what made you crash?"
She sighed, eventually brushing some stray hair out of her eyes, her expression not dour, just concerned. "You think we can get your shirt off? I won't know the extent of your injuries unless I can see for myself."
So she wasn't among those who'd been searching for him? Didn't already know why he'd crashed?
Well, at worst she'll know he's lying. Though he could equally be too disoriented and concussed to remember. Go with that one. "I'm not sure. Some kind of malfunction…"
(Not gonna just give up that the Imps shot him out of the sky. That would lead to asking why.)
Getting his shirt off was another painful prospect. Still, probably a good idea. Setting his teeth to avoid making noise, Cassian pushed himself again somewhat upright, and accepted any help she'd give in opening and removing his shirt.
During this, partly to give himself more to focus on than just ow, he managed through his teeth: "Broken ribs. No trouble breathing, which is good; no pneumothorax. Possible spinal trauma—hard to move my legs. Concussion." Several words at the end got clipped off when he bit down against the pain. His knuckles were white and lower lip bleeding as he lowered himself back down.
He was thinner than he looked clothed. The bruises blossoming on his torso were in accord with his self-diagnosis. Anything actively bleeding was relatively superficial. More striking were the older scars: A pocking of shrapnel on shoulder going over to his back. The shine of blasterburn on his side. What looked like old knife wounds on his chest and forearm. Some faint, geometric surgical lines. Callouses from restraints around his wrists. And a jagged, raised mottling running down his side disappearing under the waistband of his pants. (It looked like someone had tried to dig something out of his side with an instrument not meant for the job. But what really made it the worst: it was stretched. He'd gotten it before he was finished growing.)
She had searched for him - and she had been the one to find him, too. Jyn still didn't have an answer as to why they were in their current situation, but for the moment, she still thought that he was in a much better position than he would have been had anyone else come across him first.
Jyn nodded her understanding of the explanation - as bare as it had been. Of course he wouldn't want to tell her the truth of the matter, knowing that she was one of the Imps that had shot him down, not knowing her, not trusting her, only allowing her to help because there was no other choice. "You're lucky you didn't crash in the desert. If the sun and sand hadn't gotten you, the more feral scavs would have."
She helped where she could, steadying him when he seemed wobbly, deft fingers making quick work of undoing and removing his shirt, and it was only when she was able to take in the full picture of the man in front of her that she understood - partly - what kind of hardships he had faced. She took a shaky breath and set to the task at hand of unwrapping the thermal bandage so she could then wind it around his chest, to try to keep those broken ribs in place.
"I can't do anything about your spine - ", she stated apologetically. "It's not like I can sneak you into medbay, and you're in no condition for that, anyway. But I'll do my best with what I've got."
For a time, after the bandage was secured and she set to working on cleaning the bloody scrapes and other contusions in silence, Jyn paused and raised her eyes, a little knot of concern knitting her eyebrows together. "Is anyone going to come looking for you?"
Sneak you into medbay… So she was with them. There were no other organizations' facilities in walking distance. Did she not know why they'd been gunning for him? Or… what?
Being tended to, however rudimentarily, felt… good. Part of him thought he should resist any sense of relief or welcome of it. That part got pretty quickly shouted down. He stayed impressively still while she worked, not wincing, not resisting; head bowed, eyes closed. Like he trusted her implicitly.
(Well… trust, for him, had always been a technical term. You could trust certain people to function certain ways; trust certain situations, lines of causality, to unfold along certain lines. Right now: he didn't know her motives, but he knew he had nothing to lose.)
"Not likely, no," he murmured.
He finally moved: his hand came up and clasped hers, interrupting its work on his ruptured skin. "Jyn Erso. Are you planning on turning me over to them?" It would be one of the few explanations that made sense: get him stabilized then get full credit for delivering an interrogatable captive.
Jyn was indeed one of them. But that was why she was here, after all, as a sort of punishment for beginning to question what they were doing. And no - she was so far down the totem pole that she had not been given any reason other than 'find the trespasser'.
There weren't many trespassers and Jyn was intelligent enough to know that he, most likely, had been looking for something in particular. Nobody just came across this base, and nobody just sought it out.
She worked in silence for a bit, grateful for how still he kept, even though she was sure the antiseptic burned, no matter how gently she attempted to do it. She wanted to finish as quickly as possible - if he was concussed, he'd need to get more rest ... and she wondered if she could manage a whole night spent away from her quarters. Wouldn't it be necessary to wake him periodically to make sure that he wasn't addled?
For the moment, he seemed to trust her not to do anything untoward, since he clearly wasn't in the best position to fend her off. Still, she tensed as he unexpectedly took her hand, her attention immediately shifting from the work at hand to meet his gaze and hopefully hint that she had no malice in mind for him. "No", she answered, her voice soft but steady. "Not unless you're planning on trying to hurt me."
It was a stupid question for him to ask, he belatedly thought. How else was she going to answer?
But it was incredibly tempting to believe her. Not just for the desirable outcome, but because… … …
…
…he wanted to believe her.
(Says which? Really? No… surely. No.)
Her microexpressions suggested earnestness. But he was suddenly inclined to doubt his own analysis. Objectivity was always impaired by wanting something.
Maybe to try and offset this sudden irrationality—snap himself out of it—it finally clicked. "Erso." Where he'd heard that before. "As in Galen Erso? Leading galactic authority on crystallography and energy enrichment; currently part of Imperial weapons development?"
She wasn't trying to placate him with the answer - it had been completely truthful. No, she had no plans to turn him ... but if he attempted to get violent with her, maybe there would be no other choice. But in his current condition, that didn't seem like much of a worry.
It was clear in the way her expression shifted and changed - first falling completely, and then almost being hidden completely behind high walls that had gone up immediately in the wake of her father's name leaving his lips.
Jyn's hands trembled minutely, but she tried to keep herself together as she tried to suss out how or why this perfect stranger would even know that. Maybe she should have given an alias instead. Maybe it would have been the safer option.
Wanting to believe her, thinking her earnest, noting the tells (expression shift, manual tremor) that he'd struck a nerve, gave him the uncustomary desire to be truthful in return.
If that was a symptom of his head injury, it shouldn't be acted on. If it wasn't, it should still less be acted on. (If it wasn't, she was even more dangerous.)
"Gabrael Willix. I liaised with the deepdock on Ord Mantell*." —which was indeed the last place he'd used this alias. So, if she checked, there'd be a data trail. It placed him as a fellow Imperial, or Imperial-adjunct; just not necessarily a close or thoroughly loyal/pious one. That yielded itself to any number of theories why he'd've been shot down now. "Sorry. I've just seen that name attached to a lot of shipments that came through."
Usually, when people asked about her father, they wanted something. Surely, it was understandable that Jyn felt a little ... wary when his name had popped up seemingly out of nowhere.
The explanation seemed plausible enough, though, and while the tension in her shoulders did not dissipate, her expression did soften, not completely, but enough to suggest that she believed him.
"Alright, Gabrael Willix - ", she answered, taking a moment to regroup before she returned to the task of cleaning his wounds thoroughly. The last thing either of them needed was an infection taking hold. "Almost done. I don't have much in the way of meds for you yet, but what I do have should help with any pain you're still feeling."
He'd been playing things all wrong for low-level government agent Willix—not making more fuss about pain, to start—but better to stay consistent than overcorrect now. He closed his eyes and put back his head, simultaneously satisfied she'd believed him well enough and feeling sick to his stomach for the same reason.
"You're saving my life," he said softly. Not because he thought she didn't already know, but to prove that he did.
Jyn truly didn't find anything odd about Gabrael's reactions - he'd gone through an awful shock, after all, it made sense that the full realization of the crash hadn't quite manifested. He'd probably feel the pain much more when the morning came, and all the adrenaline (and what little pain meds she'd been able to bring) wore off.
She shook her head and then averted her eyes for a moment - a quiet one - before glancing back up, conflict more than clear in the furrowing of her brow, the set of her mouth. "Don't thank me yet. If anybody else finds you, I doubt they'll be quite as hospitable."
"That won't be on you." (Unless, for the umpteenth time, she was just toying with him; but if so, the best countermove would probably be guilt.) "And won't undo what you've done so far."
Endgame remained a question—either way: if she was tricking him or if she was genuine. Because if he wasn't to end up in Imperial hands— "Do you know what became of my ship?"
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 09:30 am (UTC)He took her hand. And tried not to lean on her too heavily as his legs petitioned for dismissal.
no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 04:59 pm (UTC)And that was if she didn't get caught. If she did, she'd be right there with him, and maybe this wasn't an acceptable risk to take, but she had to attempt it just the same. What if he had family to return to? A sweetheart somewhere? Friends and colleagues that would always wonder why he hadn't come home?
She tried to be careful of potential injuries as she wrapped an arm around his middle for leverage, taking a step forward, hoping he could follow. "Come on. Walk. You can rest once we're inside."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 02:36 am (UTC)In the furthermost corner, there was a small enough empty space to allow for a little bit of a hiding place, should anyone enter and look around. The empty pallet wouldn't exactly be comfortable, but she was already considering whether or not she could get her hands on some blankets, at least, anything that might help him rest a little more comfortably.
Right now, she just wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to die on her watch.
"I know this isn't ideal", she muttered, leading him to the disused corner, urging him to sit or lay, "But it's what we've got. Try to stay alive, alright? I'll be back when I can."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 05:20 am (UTC)Cassian accepted her lead, once again, in lowering himself slowly down. But before he released his grip on her arm, it momentarily tightened. He looked into her face to ask, at last, hoarsely, "Why are you helping me? Who are you?"
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 06:12 am (UTC)"I don't know - ", she answered, completely honestly. "I just couldn't leave you out there to die."
Or leave the others to hasten his demise along, and probably in the most sadistic ways.
"I'm Jyn - Jyn Erso."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 06:20 am (UTC)His hand stayed a moment longer on her arm. "Jyn Erso," he repeated.
Whether he would have reciprocated with his name (and which one) was uncertain. His hand went loose and slipped away from her.
But he managed, before sinking under the waves again, to breathe—however premature, however she might still prove to be tricking him: "Thank you."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 07:00 am (UTC)She couldn't even imagine the pain that he must have been in. And while she was no medic, Jyn was already making a mental list of all the supplies she would have to find a way to bring when she returned later, medkit included.
She watched as he slipped back into unconsciousness and sighed before informing the others that C-33 was also clear.
"Stand down and return to your posts. Looks like the desert probably got them."
All Jyn could hope for when she returned was to find that he hadn't died in the time she'd been away. "Just hold on, alright?", she murmured, even though she knew he couldn't hear.
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 07:27 am (UTC)said—
—a Caridan caregiver when he cried for Jeron
—Lyyxo as they pulled one another up the obsidian mountain
—Khryw smoothing back his sweat-soaked hair as they removed shrapnel from his back
—Narede as he tried to stop trembling because it was messing up his aim
—Xilo as she rode him through the bombardment-shaking of the bunker
—d'Djiera, under the stars
—Maddell when he demanded she answer
—Linat when he told her time's up
—Aune as he tried to leave the room
—Mothma when he said he didn't know how
—"Jyn Erso", saving his life?
It was a good thing Cassian rarely talked in his sleep; and a good thing he was incoherent when he did. Who knows what ammunition he could have provided an enemy that overheard him otherwise.
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 08:29 am (UTC)He was still there when she returned - not dead, but also not awake, his breathing labored and whatever noises he was making were more pained and less intelligible. She sat her pack down and soon followed, careful as she removed each item she had been able to liberate, taking stock and making plans for her next supply run.
She couldn't maneuver him in order to get a (too-thin) blanket underneath him, so for the moment, she contented herself with wetting a cloth and cooling his forehead, just in case he was feverish.
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 08:44 am (UTC)"You came back," he breathed, possibly nonsensically. And, apparently, alone.
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 09:02 am (UTC)"Yes, I did", she replied, reaching for the canteen of water that she'd made sure to bring along. "Come on, I'm sure you're parched."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 09:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 06:59 pm (UTC)"Can you tell me what happened?", she asked, glancing down at the supplies she had on hand, pondering her next action. "Do you remember what made you crash?"
She sighed, eventually brushing some stray hair out of her eyes, her expression not dour, just concerned. "You think we can get your shirt off? I won't know the extent of your injuries unless I can see for myself."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-05 02:54 am (UTC)Well, at worst she'll know he's lying. Though he could equally be too disoriented and concussed to remember. Go with that one. "I'm not sure. Some kind of malfunction…"
(Not gonna just give up that the Imps shot him out of the sky. That would lead to asking why.)
Getting his shirt off was another painful prospect. Still, probably a good idea. Setting his teeth to avoid making noise, Cassian pushed himself again somewhat upright, and accepted any help she'd give in opening and removing his shirt.
During this, partly to give himself more to focus on than just ow, he managed through his teeth: "Broken ribs. No trouble breathing, which is good; no pneumothorax. Possible spinal trauma—hard to move my legs. Concussion." Several words at the end got clipped off when he bit down against the pain. His knuckles were white and lower lip bleeding as he lowered himself back down.
He was thinner than he looked clothed. The bruises blossoming on his torso were in accord with his self-diagnosis. Anything actively bleeding was relatively superficial. More striking were the older scars: A pocking of shrapnel on shoulder going over to his back. The shine of blasterburn on his side. What looked like old knife wounds on his chest and forearm. Some faint, geometric surgical lines. Callouses from restraints around his wrists. And a jagged, raised mottling running down his side disappearing under the waistband of his pants. (It looked like someone had tried to dig something out of his side with an instrument not meant for the job. But what really made it the worst: it was stretched. He'd gotten it before he was finished growing.)
no subject
Date: 2019-07-06 02:33 am (UTC)Jyn nodded her understanding of the explanation - as bare as it had been. Of course he wouldn't want to tell her the truth of the matter, knowing that she was one of the Imps that had shot him down, not knowing her, not trusting her, only allowing her to help because there was no other choice. "You're lucky you didn't crash in the desert. If the sun and sand hadn't gotten you, the more feral scavs would have."
She helped where she could, steadying him when he seemed wobbly, deft fingers making quick work of undoing and removing his shirt, and it was only when she was able to take in the full picture of the man in front of her that she understood - partly - what kind of hardships he had faced. She took a shaky breath and set to the task at hand of unwrapping the thermal bandage so she could then wind it around his chest, to try to keep those broken ribs in place.
"I can't do anything about your spine - ", she stated apologetically. "It's not like I can sneak you into medbay, and you're in no condition for that, anyway. But I'll do my best with what I've got."
For a time, after the bandage was secured and she set to working on cleaning the bloody scrapes and other contusions in silence, Jyn paused and raised her eyes, a little knot of concern knitting her eyebrows together. "Is anyone going to come looking for you?"
no subject
Date: 2019-07-06 05:13 am (UTC)Being tended to, however rudimentarily, felt… good. Part of him thought he should resist any sense of relief or welcome of it. That part got pretty quickly shouted down. He stayed impressively still while she worked, not wincing, not resisting; head bowed, eyes closed. Like he trusted her implicitly.
(Well… trust, for him, had always been a technical term. You could trust certain people to function certain ways; trust certain situations, lines of causality, to unfold along certain lines. Right now: he didn't know her motives, but he knew he had nothing to lose.)
"Not likely, no," he murmured.
He finally moved: his hand came up and clasped hers, interrupting its work on his ruptured skin. "Jyn Erso. Are you planning on turning me over to them?" It would be one of the few explanations that made sense: get him stabilized then get full credit for delivering an interrogatable captive.
Sorry for slow, I'm having ridiculous computer problems :0/
Date: 2019-07-06 04:17 pm (UTC)There weren't many trespassers and Jyn was intelligent enough to know that he, most likely, had been looking for something in particular. Nobody just came across this base, and nobody just sought it out.
She worked in silence for a bit, grateful for how still he kept, even though she was sure the antiseptic burned, no matter how gently she attempted to do it. She wanted to finish as quickly as possible - if he was concussed, he'd need to get more rest ... and she wondered if she could manage a whole night spent away from her quarters. Wouldn't it be necessary to wake him periodically to make sure that he wasn't addled?
For the moment, he seemed to trust her not to do anything untoward, since he clearly wasn't in the best position to fend her off. Still, she tensed as he unexpectedly took her hand, her attention immediately shifting from the work at hand to meet his gaze and hopefully hint that she had no malice in mind for him. "No", she answered, her voice soft but steady. "Not unless you're planning on trying to hurt me."
no worries bb!
Date: 2019-07-07 03:43 am (UTC)But it was incredibly tempting to believe her. Not just for the desirable outcome, but because… … …
…
…he wanted to believe her.
(Says which? Really? No… surely. No.)
Her microexpressions suggested earnestness. But he was suddenly inclined to doubt his own analysis. Objectivity was always impaired by wanting something.
Maybe to try and offset this sudden irrationality—snap himself out of it—it finally clicked. "Erso." Where he'd heard that before. "As in Galen Erso? Leading galactic authority on crystallography and energy enrichment; currently part of Imperial weapons development?"
<3!
Date: 2019-07-07 06:16 am (UTC)It was clear in the way her expression shifted and changed - first falling completely, and then almost being hidden completely behind high walls that had gone up immediately in the wake of her father's name leaving his lips.
Jyn's hands trembled minutely, but she tried to keep herself together as she tried to suss out how or why this perfect stranger would even know that. Maybe she should have given an alias instead. Maybe it would have been the safer option.
Oh, well. No turning back time now.
"I call him Papa, but yes. Who's asking?"
no subject
Date: 2019-07-07 06:36 am (UTC)If that was a symptom of his head injury, it shouldn't be acted on. If it wasn't, it should still less be acted on. (If it wasn't, she was even more dangerous.)
"Gabrael Willix. I liaised with the deepdock on Ord Mantell*." —which was indeed the last place he'd used this alias. So, if she checked, there'd be a data trail. It placed him as a fellow Imperial, or Imperial-adjunct; just not necessarily a close or thoroughly loyal/pious one. That yielded itself to any number of theories why he'd've been shot down now. "Sorry. I've just seen that name attached to a lot of shipments that came through."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-07 07:05 am (UTC)The explanation seemed plausible enough, though, and while the tension in her shoulders did not dissipate, her expression did soften, not completely, but enough to suggest that she believed him.
"Alright, Gabrael Willix - ", she answered, taking a moment to regroup before she returned to the task of cleaning his wounds thoroughly. The last thing either of them needed was an infection taking hold. "Almost done. I don't have much in the way of meds for you yet, but what I do have should help with any pain you're still feeling."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-07 07:10 am (UTC)"You're saving my life," he said softly. Not because he thought she didn't already know, but to prove that he did.
no subject
Date: 2019-07-07 02:44 pm (UTC)She shook her head and then averted her eyes for a moment - a quiet one - before glancing back up, conflict more than clear in the furrowing of her brow, the set of her mouth. "Don't thank me yet. If anybody else finds you, I doubt they'll be quite as hospitable."
no subject
Date: 2019-07-08 08:26 am (UTC)Endgame remained a question—either way: if she was tricking him or if she was genuine. Because if he wasn't to end up in Imperial hands— "Do you know what became of my ship?"
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