( Kylo leaves the gloves in the toolbox with the tube of sealant and the hydrospanner, and a number of other pieces of expertly and inexpertly twisted metal that belie the use of the kit and the legitimacy of the pieces within it. Rey lets herself out of the compartment they've been crouched it, and Kylo spends a moment inside of it, glancing down at the work done on the heating and cooling system for lack of anything else to look at before following her out into the central loop of the winding corridors, into cooler, recycled air. She's looking him in the eye when he steps out, and he has little choice other than to look at her right back, reminded of a similar time not all that long ago, staring down a rather different individual through the screen of his helmet.
Who talks first? Kylo thinks, altogether unfamiliar with how to proceed when the contest is a battle of who can say less of what they're thinking, when the alternative means yelling and throwing things. It's a toss-up as to which one he would prefer, and he doesn't think Rey has any guarantees about which one she would find more rewarding in that moment either, if the look on her face is anything to go by. Like she wants to say something, like she wants to do something, like the fight is an internal one with no actual outcome or winner. Kylo can sympathize with that: he's been fighting with himself for as long as he's been fighting with anyone. But Rey turns and dismisses the moment, and Kylo is left to follow her down the walkway, vague thoughts of the general's arrival buzzing in the back of his head like a fly in a glass jar.
Where else is he supposed to go, though? It's a disadvantage that he has no rectification for. For as much as Rey has been advantageous in his liberation, so to speak, he recognizes his own prediction in the way that he follows her from room to room, feeling adequately leashed to the familiarity of her, rather than loyalty. She's become a constant in this unpredictable game, a rock in the middle of the ocean. Her island in the sea. It strikes him abruptly that he really does have nowhere else to go, just back down to the warped panel that he'd destroyed.
Guilt isn't exactly the word that he would use to classify what he feels in seeing it again, as Rey crouches to inspect the damage that he's done. Responsibility, maybe. It's the more practical option out of the two and any others that might come railing to the forefront, and he counts them lucky that he hadn't destroyed something else, something more important than a bit of metal susceptible to disfigurement. The journey ahead of them is long and clouded with darkness, whenever he tries to feel any part of it out, but he's never been good at that and has always felt the darkness laced throughout, so it's no surprise. )
Be glad I didn't rip an outward facing wall apart. ( He replies to her in a conversational tone as well, heavy with the implication that although the comment itself is delivered with the intention of being sarcastic, it smacks of experience and has more than just a grain of truth in it. Kylo can't deny her initial suggestion, though, feeling weighed down to the molecular level, heavier with the knowledge of Organa's approach. Probably he should feel success at having evaded the First Order all this way, but all he can interpret the churning of his stomach as is indigestion. He nods at her, even though Rey has her back to him. ) I'm sure you'll holler your head off if you find anything worth berating me over, but in the event you need me for anything that doesn't directly involve reprimanding me, I'll be one of the bunks. Hoth will have frozen over before I try out the palace's guest quarters.
( He'll take trying to cram himself into one of the tiny crew bunks over mistrustful eyes that probably have a clear suspicion of who he is any day. )
do it rey put him in the closet pls
Who talks first? Kylo thinks, altogether unfamiliar with how to proceed when the contest is a battle of who can say less of what they're thinking, when the alternative means yelling and throwing things. It's a toss-up as to which one he would prefer, and he doesn't think Rey has any guarantees about which one she would find more rewarding in that moment either, if the look on her face is anything to go by. Like she wants to say something, like she wants to do something, like the fight is an internal one with no actual outcome or winner. Kylo can sympathize with that: he's been fighting with himself for as long as he's been fighting with anyone. But Rey turns and dismisses the moment, and Kylo is left to follow her down the walkway, vague thoughts of the general's arrival buzzing in the back of his head like a fly in a glass jar.
Where else is he supposed to go, though? It's a disadvantage that he has no rectification for. For as much as Rey has been advantageous in his liberation, so to speak, he recognizes his own prediction in the way that he follows her from room to room, feeling adequately leashed to the familiarity of her, rather than loyalty. She's become a constant in this unpredictable game, a rock in the middle of the ocean. Her island in the sea. It strikes him abruptly that he really does have nowhere else to go, just back down to the warped panel that he'd destroyed.
Guilt isn't exactly the word that he would use to classify what he feels in seeing it again, as Rey crouches to inspect the damage that he's done. Responsibility, maybe. It's the more practical option out of the two and any others that might come railing to the forefront, and he counts them lucky that he hadn't destroyed something else, something more important than a bit of metal susceptible to disfigurement. The journey ahead of them is long and clouded with darkness, whenever he tries to feel any part of it out, but he's never been good at that and has always felt the darkness laced throughout, so it's no surprise. )
Be glad I didn't rip an outward facing wall apart. ( He replies to her in a conversational tone as well, heavy with the implication that although the comment itself is delivered with the intention of being sarcastic, it smacks of experience and has more than just a grain of truth in it. Kylo can't deny her initial suggestion, though, feeling weighed down to the molecular level, heavier with the knowledge of Organa's approach. Probably he should feel success at having evaded the First Order all this way, but all he can interpret the churning of his stomach as is indigestion. He nods at her, even though Rey has her back to him. ) I'm sure you'll holler your head off if you find anything worth berating me over, but in the event you need me for anything that doesn't directly involve reprimanding me, I'll be one of the bunks. Hoth will have frozen over before I try out the palace's guest quarters.
( He'll take trying to cram himself into one of the tiny crew bunks over mistrustful eyes that probably have a clear suspicion of who he is any day. )