[ In the back of her mind, she keeps hold of her awareness of him, more like a gentle brush of elbows than digging her fingers into his brain precisely. But she knows this much: he can't calm herself. As much as she wants to blame him for that, she knows her desire to criticize him is born out of her own tired mind demanding the same of her. It's a survival tactic in every sense of the word, keeping her alert so she doesn't pass out beside the wiring and get them all killed.
So she doesn't seek out the calm center of peace in the back of her mind, doesn't reach for the island or Jakku, but focuses on the heat pouring off the wiring as she checks it where it courses throughout the ship. By the look of it, the worst is the link between the heating unit and the central control, with a few of the other connectors fried — or potentially functional themselves, were the control panel itself functional. She tries to temper her hope for an easy fix without giving up on it entirely.
There's not much in the way of wiring and spare connectors on the Falcon—every part it has is hanging on for dear life, rummaged from a waste bin at one point or another when it should have been retired, and some key bolts are even missing, deemed optional by its previous pilot. It takes long enough to diagnose the problem that she's entirely sure she wouldn't have much time to start replacing parts anyway before they neared Roche.
But there is something else she can work on fixing while she's absently tracing wires and tensing her jaw. Reaching out with her mind and the help of the Force, she breathes an air of calm into him, which fans out and blankets the fire of his restlessness soothingly. It's not a perfect technique, but she'll at least make the offer of it. Just because she can't put herself at ease doesn't mean he can't, if he's able. ]
um it's super valuable ok you can write baby naming books and win staring contests
So she doesn't seek out the calm center of peace in the back of her mind, doesn't reach for the island or Jakku, but focuses on the heat pouring off the wiring as she checks it where it courses throughout the ship. By the look of it, the worst is the link between the heating unit and the central control, with a few of the other connectors fried — or potentially functional themselves, were the control panel itself functional. She tries to temper her hope for an easy fix without giving up on it entirely.
There's not much in the way of wiring and spare connectors on the Falcon—every part it has is hanging on for dear life, rummaged from a waste bin at one point or another when it should have been retired, and some key bolts are even missing, deemed optional by its previous pilot. It takes long enough to diagnose the problem that she's entirely sure she wouldn't have much time to start replacing parts anyway before they neared Roche.
But there is something else she can work on fixing while she's absently tracing wires and tensing her jaw. Reaching out with her mind and the help of the Force, she breathes an air of calm into him, which fans out and blankets the fire of his restlessness soothingly. It's not a perfect technique, but she'll at least make the offer of it. Just because she can't put herself at ease doesn't mean he can't, if he's able. ]