( Rey might miss that drawn exhale from the general's lips, but Kylo doesn't. Even when he isn't looking at her, when he's trying to split his attention and focus equally between the three other people in the room and anything that might prick his interest beyond the walls of the bunker, Organa dominates his field of perception like a bomb going off in the distance. She crowds his vision even when he isn't looking at her and floods his sinuses with the scent of her perfume, her shampoo. He could make an active effort to ignore her and still her presence would supersede everyone else around her without having to try very hard, even with how hesitant she is toward him, maintaining a professional distance now despite her reluctant affection toward him prior to this part of their meeting.
The only thing that competes with it is the sound of Rey's voice cutting the weighted stillness in the room, filling it up to the walls and ceiling and washing away some of the misgiving that had settled in following the sound of his own low tones and the harsh sharpness of his tongue. She soothes the sting of the balm that he tries to apply to the wounds that have been raised as best she can, trying to appease and impart with the knowledge that she has gleaned in ways that he can't. It leaves him dumbfounded, in a way, which is not a feeling he's overly familiar with, enough that he has to stare hard at the back of her head when she steps in front of him a little.
Or, rooted more firmly in reality, when he steps back once Organa raises a hand toward the both of them, shifting from the balls of his feet to his heels and rearranging long limbs in a way that makes him both shrink away while managing to loom large at the same time. Kylo only finishes extending himself to his full height - so considerable in such a small room, surrounded by such small people - when Organa signals their dismissal, which leaves him both relieved that he won't be subject to her scrutiny and irritated that she feels he's dismissible at all. His uncle catches him mid-motion and Kylo arrests himself in the act of bringing his arms behind his back to grip one wrist with the flat, wide palm of another, so much so that he straightens to military attention as if daring the other man to say anything about anything in the process.
He thanks Rey, but not Kylo, and it does not go unnoticed, Kylo's fingers tightening around the bones in his wrist and his jaw tensing as he chooses to ignore the alleged guilt in Skywalker's eyes and see instead cautious reproach. Wasted potential. That stings, too, but not perceptibly enough for it to be noticeable. He's glad for it when Rey looks up at him and nods, and he begins stuffing his gloves into a pocket as she motions him to follow her out of the room, never more glad than he is in that moment to be away from two people. His hand finds his hair when they exit the room, and he scrubs through it hard enough to tangle. )
Now what? ( There's a certain amount of derision in his voice that is perhaps unfairly directed at her, but his muscles are jumping off of his bones and twitchy, crackling energy rolls off of him in waves. Something in the atrium they step into makes a distinct crunching sound as metal collapses in on itself, and he tosses a glance back over his shoulder at the rusting door to a fuse box, which has crumbled like a tin can. The look he levels at Rey tries to be apologetic, but it gets lost halfway there and leaves him looking sour instead. ) After such a charming reunion, I assume you'll lock me back in the shuttle.
( Certainly not for the first time and definitely not for the last, he wonders where his saber has gone to. Not with any intention of using it in the present moment, but with the sort of longing that children miss lights when they are finally turned off in the night. )
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The only thing that competes with it is the sound of Rey's voice cutting the weighted stillness in the room, filling it up to the walls and ceiling and washing away some of the misgiving that had settled in following the sound of his own low tones and the harsh sharpness of his tongue. She soothes the sting of the balm that he tries to apply to the wounds that have been raised as best she can, trying to appease and impart with the knowledge that she has gleaned in ways that he can't. It leaves him dumbfounded, in a way, which is not a feeling he's overly familiar with, enough that he has to stare hard at the back of her head when she steps in front of him a little.
Or, rooted more firmly in reality, when he steps back once Organa raises a hand toward the both of them, shifting from the balls of his feet to his heels and rearranging long limbs in a way that makes him both shrink away while managing to loom large at the same time. Kylo only finishes extending himself to his full height - so considerable in such a small room, surrounded by such small people - when Organa signals their dismissal, which leaves him both relieved that he won't be subject to her scrutiny and irritated that she feels he's dismissible at all. His uncle catches him mid-motion and Kylo arrests himself in the act of bringing his arms behind his back to grip one wrist with the flat, wide palm of another, so much so that he straightens to military attention as if daring the other man to say anything about anything in the process.
He thanks Rey, but not Kylo, and it does not go unnoticed, Kylo's fingers tightening around the bones in his wrist and his jaw tensing as he chooses to ignore the alleged guilt in Skywalker's eyes and see instead cautious reproach. Wasted potential. That stings, too, but not perceptibly enough for it to be noticeable. He's glad for it when Rey looks up at him and nods, and he begins stuffing his gloves into a pocket as she motions him to follow her out of the room, never more glad than he is in that moment to be away from two people. His hand finds his hair when they exit the room, and he scrubs through it hard enough to tangle. )
Now what? ( There's a certain amount of derision in his voice that is perhaps unfairly directed at her, but his muscles are jumping off of his bones and twitchy, crackling energy rolls off of him in waves. Something in the atrium they step into makes a distinct crunching sound as metal collapses in on itself, and he tosses a glance back over his shoulder at the rusting door to a fuse box, which has crumbled like a tin can. The look he levels at Rey tries to be apologetic, but it gets lost halfway there and leaves him looking sour instead. ) After such a charming reunion, I assume you'll lock me back in the shuttle.
( Certainly not for the first time and definitely not for the last, he wonders where his saber has gone to. Not with any intention of using it in the present moment, but with the sort of longing that children miss lights when they are finally turned off in the night. )