[ The statement comes out reflectively sad. Truth be told, there's not much that Rey knows of her co-pilot other than the fact that his coarse exterior is precisely that: the loss of Han came too soon into their relationship, and it was Leia who Chewie had sought for comfort in the wake of it.
The wookiee made his share of sarcastic complaints or rallying cries, but discussion of his late best friend mostly provoked unintelligible but indubitably dismissive warbling and stern mechanical work: he kept the loss with him and suffered it daily, wounds reopened by the haunted halls of the Falcon itself, which he could not abandon. It did not keep him from being kind to her, but to a degree, it was a distant sort of kindness, that welcomed her into Han's space only at a pace comfortable for Chewbacca, and Rey was happy to permit him that. He deserved it, to be certain, and she had been stunned and flattered that he had even considered her an eligible pilot to take Solo's place.
She wishes she could have known what he was like when Ben Solo knew him, but that was a lifetime ago—her entire lifetime ago, as it happens—and something about that timeline sticks in her mind like scrap metal in gears, stopping it up just long enough for her to find it significant, but frail enough to be crunched up and moved on from before too long. Nothing, she was sure, but her reading into coincidences. ]
Try not to be offended that I'm saying so, but I'm surprised you enjoy the game. [ She looks up at him from the moving beasts, a slight smirk lilting into her voice and twisting the corners of her mouth as she turns his phrasing back on him, though there's truth to the statement beyond the opportunity to take a jab at him. There had always been something graceful and refined in the cold, intimidating lines that carried Kylo Ren across a battlefield, even as he hacked in desperate fury across the snowy forest of Starkiller Base. Unhinged, and he still carried weight. By comparison, dejarik seemed a bar game. She could not picture him in the thick of Maz's castle, placing bets and leering. ] It's rough around the edges.
scholar goals
[ The statement comes out reflectively sad. Truth be told, there's not much that Rey knows of her co-pilot other than the fact that his coarse exterior is precisely that: the loss of Han came too soon into their relationship, and it was Leia who Chewie had sought for comfort in the wake of it.
The wookiee made his share of sarcastic complaints or rallying cries, but discussion of his late best friend mostly provoked unintelligible but indubitably dismissive warbling and stern mechanical work: he kept the loss with him and suffered it daily, wounds reopened by the haunted halls of the Falcon itself, which he could not abandon. It did not keep him from being kind to her, but to a degree, it was a distant sort of kindness, that welcomed her into Han's space only at a pace comfortable for Chewbacca, and Rey was happy to permit him that. He deserved it, to be certain, and she had been stunned and flattered that he had even considered her an eligible pilot to take Solo's place.
She wishes she could have known what he was like when Ben Solo knew him, but that was a lifetime ago—her entire lifetime ago, as it happens—and something about that timeline sticks in her mind like scrap metal in gears, stopping it up just long enough for her to find it significant, but frail enough to be crunched up and moved on from before too long. Nothing, she was sure, but her reading into coincidences. ]
Try not to be offended that I'm saying so, but I'm surprised you enjoy the game. [ She looks up at him from the moving beasts, a slight smirk lilting into her voice and twisting the corners of her mouth as she turns his phrasing back on him, though there's truth to the statement beyond the opportunity to take a jab at him. There had always been something graceful and refined in the cold, intimidating lines that carried Kylo Ren across a battlefield, even as he hacked in desperate fury across the snowy forest of Starkiller Base. Unhinged, and he still carried weight. By comparison, dejarik seemed a bar game. She could not picture him in the thick of Maz's castle, placing bets and leering. ] It's rough around the edges.