[ An undignified noise answers him first, punctuating her unwillingness to acquiesce, and for a moment that follows, she scrunches her face up further where it's buried against her arm. She reluctantly begins to pick herself up a moment later, sloughing off the grip of fatigue like a skin to shed, as if it were so simple when her weariness runs so deep. Rey lifts her gaze towards him, realizes that he looks as though he's been waiting impatiently for an hour or more, and then fumbles onto her feet, dusting herself off haphazardly along the way. ]
You could have woken me.
[ She doesn't claim that it would have done much good, or that she'd have been happy about it, but it feels easier to disavow the responsibility now that day has broken. ]
How's your leg?
[ The fact that the dull throb feels far at the edges of her awareness doesn't tell her much—or at least, she assumes it doesn't, because she attributes it as much to a result of her own sleep-fogged mind as to any reasonable estimation of how the bacta treatment overnight might have prepared him for the progression down. ]
no subject
You could have woken me.
[ She doesn't claim that it would have done much good, or that she'd have been happy about it, but it feels easier to disavow the responsibility now that day has broken. ]
How's your leg?
[ The fact that the dull throb feels far at the edges of her awareness doesn't tell her much—or at least, she assumes it doesn't, because she attributes it as much to a result of her own sleep-fogged mind as to any reasonable estimation of how the bacta treatment overnight might have prepared him for the progression down. ]