( He ignores her for a moment, annoyed with her question more than he finds himself annoyed at her for asking it. Kylo pulls the metallic framework of his saber apart piece by piece, some of the components hovering next to his head in midair while others he sets on the table in front of him. It isn't long before he has a small spread before him. When he reaches the crystal, split nearly in half very similar to the way his face has been, he removes it with careful precision and the sort of delicate attention that he gives to little else in the known universe. In his hand, the unstable power of the small thing feels warm and heavy. It clunks lightly against the tabletop when he sets it down, and his thumb ghosts over the activation lever until the metal warms beneath his fingerprint. Dismantled, nothing happens, and a part of him naturally reaches out to ensure that the door to his private suite is well and truly locked, held fast with a small blockade of focus. )
Define improve.
( The innards so exposed, he switches tools to begin working on cleaning the crossguard vent, worried that the damage she had done in cutting the damn thing nearly in two on Starkiller might have affected the quillon that hadn't taken the brute force of her momentary ferocity. The memory is not so distant that he can't recall it in acute detail now, the tight set of her shoulders and the blue, jagged beam of his grandfather's saber in her hand washing her in bright light as he lay in the snow. The self-loathing and anger directed both inward and outward had come later, had wrecked medbay and killed a deck officer.
He's a touch calmer in the days and weeks since, that much more so when concentrating on the task at hand: a tricky balance with her in his mind as if she's always been there. That thought in itself is disconcerting, as are the implications behind it. Kylo pops a bit of grit out of the crossguard vent and blows sharply into the apparatus to clear it of any remaining detritus. )
It's served me just fine in place of the lightsaber that you stole from me. ( He gets the impression both from her and instinctively that she would be good at this, catching flits of images of her hands, small and stained, fitting pieces together with ease, a mechanic's intuition that affords her a measure of superiority that he never had, obvious in the instability of the blade he carries now. When he pops the shroud back on in a way that doesn't compromise the internal wiring the way it had after he'd repaired it, Kylo only stops to consider the possible source as Rey for no longer than it takes to be rid of it. He swallows and starts on the other emitter, annoyed and angry. ) It worked fine when that friend of yours got in my way, at least.
( The opposite emitter shroud pops off with a loud click! in the silence of the room. )
no subject
Define improve.
( The innards so exposed, he switches tools to begin working on cleaning the crossguard vent, worried that the damage she had done in cutting the damn thing nearly in two on Starkiller might have affected the quillon that hadn't taken the brute force of her momentary ferocity. The memory is not so distant that he can't recall it in acute detail now, the tight set of her shoulders and the blue, jagged beam of his grandfather's saber in her hand washing her in bright light as he lay in the snow. The self-loathing and anger directed both inward and outward had come later, had wrecked medbay and killed a deck officer.
He's a touch calmer in the days and weeks since, that much more so when concentrating on the task at hand: a tricky balance with her in his mind as if she's always been there. That thought in itself is disconcerting, as are the implications behind it. Kylo pops a bit of grit out of the crossguard vent and blows sharply into the apparatus to clear it of any remaining detritus. )
It's served me just fine in place of the lightsaber that you stole from me. ( He gets the impression both from her and instinctively that she would be good at this, catching flits of images of her hands, small and stained, fitting pieces together with ease, a mechanic's intuition that affords her a measure of superiority that he never had, obvious in the instability of the blade he carries now. When he pops the shroud back on in a way that doesn't compromise the internal wiring the way it had after he'd repaired it, Kylo only stops to consider the possible source as Rey for no longer than it takes to be rid of it. He swallows and starts on the other emitter, annoyed and angry. ) It worked fine when that friend of yours got in my way, at least.
( The opposite emitter shroud pops off with a loud click! in the silence of the room. )