[ With curiosity gleaming in her eyes, she plunders his feelings as if they're her own, a simple mental nudge made easier by proximity, though by rights such closeness should have no tangible impact. Not for nothing. She needs to know that under his question ostensibly about the Resistance's stasis is not some deeper, more personal insecurity.

She's relieved when there's not, but that also means she has to put real thought into the question he does intend. More than that, it means a more serious conversation than she'd been vying for, but she resolves herself to it.

The trouble isn't with the Resistance itself. That engenders no feelings of restlessness, but a feeling of being found: this is her home, her family. Leia Organa and Han Solo have (and had, she modifies sadly) done more than any forgotten parents fifteen years gone. In her connection to them, she could not feel more content, but on this base… She sighs. ]

I try to keep myself busy. [ But it's not easy, and it's not a luxury that Kylo can take for himself. Responsibilities come with trust. Her leash extends much farther than his (though, she has noticed, not as far as it once did). ] But war is tiresome and slow. I didn't think there'd be so much waiting.

[ Waiting for intelligence, waiting for the fleet to return, waiting for the right moment to strike, waiting to see what the First Order does, always waiting. She's used to waiting, true, but that's what makes her so tired of it. It's not the Jedi way to need action, but Kylo Ren is not a Jedi, and so she affords him an honesty that she would not offer Luke or his sister the General. ]

And you as well, I take it.