[ Kylo moves like a swaggering giant, from the thud of his footfalls to the stretch of his spine to the way he wrenches the sensor free from his belt, feeding on her anger and turning it back on her and driving it home. But Rey doesn't flag or shrink back: she stands like a stone in the midst of a storm, letting him spit any defense he likes around her while she weathers it unflinchingly.
He wears outrage more comfortably than she does, as though he has steeped in it long enough that after his initial defensive outburst, he can sink back into cold restraint that offers only the thinnest of veils to his frustration. It comes secondhand to Rey, who has felt and internalized anger at the sun and the sand and the wind and starvation and Unkar Plutt and her own ineptitudes but has rarely battled with the same interpersonal anger that commands and drives him. Her anger is directed at monoliths, which gives Kylo Ren more credit than he is due.
When he grabs her wrist, instinct tells her to throw him over her shoulder and pin him to the ground, letting him keep his head if he's lucky, but the moment is brief enough and his hands tight enough that he manages to shove the sensor into her palm before she can yank it break it along the seam of his grip, something akin to a snarl slipping past her lips that very nearly lends context to her charming partnership with the wookiee several rooms away, and then, just like that, Kylo moves past her to excuse himself, and she whips around to shout after him. ]
Oh, don't just walk away! [ She takes one, two steps to pursue, but otherwise stops in the middle of the hallway, pride tethering her to her spot and keeping her from running after him like the same lost child who had tried to wrench free of Plutt's grip to run after the retreating ozone trails of her parents' ship. ] Especially not when you were the one fixing the bloody heating! [ Instead, she contents herself with shouting after him with a series of complaints designed to improve her sentiments on the situation rather than see his behavior change. ] Which, by the way, you damaged in the first place.
[ But he's already gone.
With a sigh, Rey looks down at the chip in her hand, turning it over in her palm and considering its insignificance—in physical presence, and the more pressing question of whether it justified the unease and anger she'd turned towards him. Firmly, she reminds herself that she was looking out for Finn and the others, and she easily swallows the guilt. ]
And just what am I supposed to do with this? [ Whatever she wanted, or so he said, but she isn't sure what that is. Learning more about it seems like the obvious answer, but truthfully, she'll be happier putting it off for another day. Setting the problem it poses aside for now, Rey tucks it into her shirt and winds her way back out of the main hold and to the life support control room, where she crouches at the main heating control panel. Fetching a flashlight from nearby, she peers inside, examining the wire work he's completed with careful scrutiny. ]
Have to do everything myself. [ Except, talking to herself and examining the panel, she notices that a great deal of the work has already been done; if she had to guess, the reason no one had seen him in the guest quarters of the Hapan palace was because he'd turned right back around and worked through the night on this. No wonder he'd been incensed by the implication that he would turn tail or cling to his old loyalties. An unwelcome surge of shame burns under her skin, but she ignores it too—she has every reason to greet him with the reproach she does, and it will take more than repair work to earn a kinder hand.
Which isn't to say she isn't curious about the work he's done. He is, after all, the son of Han Solo, and it had been impossible to say on Jakku how much was Han Solo's duct tape work and how much was Unkar Plutt's maddening decision to leave the ship to rot away untouched. ]
How far did you get with this, anyway? Hopefully not far enough to make anything worse… [ Insults pour from her lips, keeping her company in a way that speaks of years of experience, for she doesn't really expect Kylo Ren to be listening to her anymore. No, she speaks to him in the same way that other people speak to air, fully expecting that despite her doubts, she will find little wrong. After all, even if he'd learned nothing from his father, Chewie had kept an eye on him; it couldn't be that bad. Finding him helpful beyond what she had anticipated, Rey shuts off the flashlight and sits back, looking the panel over with the befuddled and directionless frustration of someone who has misjudged. Finally, under her breath, she huffs out— ] I liked it better when I was trying to kill you.
no subject
He wears outrage more comfortably than she does, as though he has steeped in it long enough that after his initial defensive outburst, he can sink back into cold restraint that offers only the thinnest of veils to his frustration. It comes secondhand to Rey, who has felt and internalized anger at the sun and the sand and the wind and starvation and Unkar Plutt and her own ineptitudes but has rarely battled with the same interpersonal anger that commands and drives him. Her anger is directed at monoliths, which gives Kylo Ren more credit than he is due.
When he grabs her wrist, instinct tells her to throw him over her shoulder and pin him to the ground, letting him keep his head if he's lucky, but the moment is brief enough and his hands tight enough that he manages to shove the sensor into her palm before she can yank it break it along the seam of his grip, something akin to a snarl slipping past her lips that very nearly lends context to her charming partnership with the wookiee several rooms away, and then, just like that, Kylo moves past her to excuse himself, and she whips around to shout after him. ]
Oh, don't just walk away! [ She takes one, two steps to pursue, but otherwise stops in the middle of the hallway, pride tethering her to her spot and keeping her from running after him like the same lost child who had tried to wrench free of Plutt's grip to run after the retreating ozone trails of her parents' ship. ] Especially not when you were the one fixing the bloody heating! [ Instead, she contents herself with shouting after him with a series of complaints designed to improve her sentiments on the situation rather than see his behavior change. ] Which, by the way, you damaged in the first place.
[ But he's already gone.
With a sigh, Rey looks down at the chip in her hand, turning it over in her palm and considering its insignificance—in physical presence, and the more pressing question of whether it justified the unease and anger she'd turned towards him. Firmly, she reminds herself that she was looking out for Finn and the others, and she easily swallows the guilt. ]
And just what am I supposed to do with this? [ Whatever she wanted, or so he said, but she isn't sure what that is. Learning more about it seems like the obvious answer, but truthfully, she'll be happier putting it off for another day. Setting the problem it poses aside for now, Rey tucks it into her shirt and winds her way back out of the main hold and to the life support control room, where she crouches at the main heating control panel. Fetching a flashlight from nearby, she peers inside, examining the wire work he's completed with careful scrutiny. ]
Have to do everything myself. [ Except, talking to herself and examining the panel, she notices that a great deal of the work has already been done; if she had to guess, the reason no one had seen him in the guest quarters of the Hapan palace was because he'd turned right back around and worked through the night on this. No wonder he'd been incensed by the implication that he would turn tail or cling to his old loyalties. An unwelcome surge of shame burns under her skin, but she ignores it too—she has every reason to greet him with the reproach she does, and it will take more than repair work to earn a kinder hand.
Which isn't to say she isn't curious about the work he's done. He is, after all, the son of Han Solo, and it had been impossible to say on Jakku how much was Han Solo's duct tape work and how much was Unkar Plutt's maddening decision to leave the ship to rot away untouched. ]
How far did you get with this, anyway? Hopefully not far enough to make anything worse… [ Insults pour from her lips, keeping her company in a way that speaks of years of experience, for she doesn't really expect Kylo Ren to be listening to her anymore. No, she speaks to him in the same way that other people speak to air, fully expecting that despite her doubts, she will find little wrong. After all, even if he'd learned nothing from his father, Chewie had kept an eye on him; it couldn't be that bad. Finding him helpful beyond what she had anticipated, Rey shuts off the flashlight and sits back, looking the panel over with the befuddled and directionless frustration of someone who has misjudged. Finally, under her breath, she huffs out— ] I liked it better when I was trying to kill you.