( This intermission won't last, and they both know it. Maybe it will end tomorrow morning, when Luke fails to return, or maybe it will end tomorrow morning when he does return, bringing with him whatever news he has from the fleet, forcing them to move again, jump systems again, running and hiding to old Rebel Alliance bases - and older ones, too; recycled outposts from the Clone Wars tucked into questionable corners of the galaxy - while the First Order gives chase. Retreat frustrates him but not as much as inaction, stagnation, and although Kylo has learned to appreciate these moments in between one mad scramble and the next because of what they have provided him - and not just this new but seemingly inevitable development with Rey, though he would no sooner admit to having missed his mother than he would admit that he grows and combs his hair in exactly the way that he does because it hides his ears - restlessness is something, he suspects, grows in the both of them. )
One or two things. ( He affirms her suspicions by searching for the hem of her shirt with his thumbnail, snagging on the stitching and poking his thumb through a loop of string that's come loose from the rest of the garment. Whatever expression she finds or looks for on his face - and he thinks that he can guess given the slight shift of her own - he circumvents, ignoring her expectation and affecting something pensive and lofty as he considers the lightsaber pieces that she has reassembly with relative ease. As if he would expect anything less from her, at this point. ) I had been doing something before I was interrupted.
( And he had been reading before that, as his restlessness tends to dictate when he can't exhaust it by destroying something. It's a line of thinking that he turns toward Rey a moment later, losing some of the sarcasm in his expression and looking off into the middle distance instead, a crease forming between his brows. ) Do you feel restless, here?
i feel like i am still in recovery tbh
One or two things. ( He affirms her suspicions by searching for the hem of her shirt with his thumbnail, snagging on the stitching and poking his thumb through a loop of string that's come loose from the rest of the garment. Whatever expression she finds or looks for on his face - and he thinks that he can guess given the slight shift of her own - he circumvents, ignoring her expectation and affecting something pensive and lofty as he considers the lightsaber pieces that she has reassembly with relative ease. As if he would expect anything less from her, at this point. ) I had been doing something before I was interrupted.
( And he had been reading before that, as his restlessness tends to dictate when he can't exhaust it by destroying something. It's a line of thinking that he turns toward Rey a moment later, losing some of the sarcasm in his expression and looking off into the middle distance instead, a crease forming between his brows. ) Do you feel restless, here?