( If any of Rey's thoughts - her curiosity regarding his relationship with Ji, her surprise and interest in exploring the reality of what he had and hadn't shared with Snoke about her, the weight and existence of their bond in and of itself - bleed through the screen of his own mind, permeate natural fortifications built up over the course of a lifetime of subservience and discipline, or otherwise distract him from the nature and speed of Ji's approach, Kylo makes no indication or mention of it. He barely notices it himself, if it does, caught up in their unified acknowledgement of the small craft that barrels toward them seemingly out of nowhere, gunning for their back end and looping around to pull into a dive. Of course it's just as unlikely that he doesn't get some sort of chatter as a result of their crossed wires, but there's little time to separate Rey's perceptions from his own when the bulk of his attention gathers around Ji's signature hurtling toward them and what it is that Rey plans to do next.
Kylo can't get a read on either: Ji is still a garbled collection of static despite being present and Rey. Rey is too quick at the controls to anticipate anything other than a dash of anxiety mixed with vertigo-induced nausea as she rockets the ship down along the moon's atmosphere and does her damnedest to scuttle them all in a fiery mess that will streak across the sky. He's about to shout something about incoming fire - it hasn't manifested physically yet but he can sense the intent even as Ji momentarily blinks out of existence before winking back into it again like an open eye - when Rey banks the ship and he has to shut his mouth and grab first onto the wall to his right and then onto the console as the entire ship begins to feel like it's about to vibrate into a million pieces.
He's known how to fly a ship almost as long as he's known how to read and write, has done enough recon missions in all types of terrain and had to set down ships in electrical storms without a decent-sized crew to do the bulk of the heavy lifting. He has never seen anyone or anything fly the way that Rey does. Save one. It's as if her life depends solely on pulling off the impossible, if the way that the jagged horizon, comprised of the tops of tall trees and waxing waning hills, rushes toward them is any indication. Kylo glances over at her once, uninterested in watching rock face and cliff side collide with the viewport even as he knows instinctively that she will pull up with more than enough time to clear it, from her point of view, and fixes narrow eyes on the lines of her face and the stiff grip of her fingers around the Falcon's controls.
Kylo can't be sure of the sentiment that forces his expression the way that it does. It might be thinly veiled resentment or stern consternation. Or an attempt at deciphering the gears that make her turn without diving in to skim the surface of her mind the way the ship's underbelly does the tops of the trees. He doesn't investigate, whatever it is, and turns away after a moment once the ship is clear to set down. He can still sense Ji's approach somewhere on the planet, but it's far enough away for the moment to exist as a dull perception, an advancing bad feeling, than a bright star on the brink of explosion. )
Right there looks good. ( Kylo gestures toward a clearing that houses a mining pit adequate enough for their purposes. It's only when they've touched down that he glances over at her again. ) It's a wonder you haven't pulled this ship apart flying it the way that you do.
no subject
Kylo can't get a read on either: Ji is still a garbled collection of static despite being present and Rey. Rey is too quick at the controls to anticipate anything other than a dash of anxiety mixed with vertigo-induced nausea as she rockets the ship down along the moon's atmosphere and does her damnedest to scuttle them all in a fiery mess that will streak across the sky. He's about to shout something about incoming fire - it hasn't manifested physically yet but he can sense the intent even as Ji momentarily blinks out of existence before winking back into it again like an open eye - when Rey banks the ship and he has to shut his mouth and grab first onto the wall to his right and then onto the console as the entire ship begins to feel like it's about to vibrate into a million pieces.
He's known how to fly a ship almost as long as he's known how to read and write, has done enough recon missions in all types of terrain and had to set down ships in electrical storms without a decent-sized crew to do the bulk of the heavy lifting. He has never seen anyone or anything fly the way that Rey does. Save one. It's as if her life depends solely on pulling off the impossible, if the way that the jagged horizon, comprised of the tops of tall trees and waxing waning hills, rushes toward them is any indication. Kylo glances over at her once, uninterested in watching rock face and cliff side collide with the viewport even as he knows instinctively that she will pull up with more than enough time to clear it, from her point of view, and fixes narrow eyes on the lines of her face and the stiff grip of her fingers around the Falcon's controls.
Kylo can't be sure of the sentiment that forces his expression the way that it does. It might be thinly veiled resentment or stern consternation. Or an attempt at deciphering the gears that make her turn without diving in to skim the surface of her mind the way the ship's underbelly does the tops of the trees. He doesn't investigate, whatever it is, and turns away after a moment once the ship is clear to set down. He can still sense Ji's approach somewhere on the planet, but it's far enough away for the moment to exist as a dull perception, an advancing bad feeling, than a bright star on the brink of explosion. )
Right there looks good. ( Kylo gestures toward a clearing that houses a mining pit adequate enough for their purposes. It's only when they've touched down that he glances over at her again. ) It's a wonder you haven't pulled this ship apart flying it the way that you do.