[ rey has always been easy to read. she wears her emotions on her sleeve, a complete lack of a poker face always a dead giveaway when attentive listening sways into anger or hurt. now, her expression telegraphs anxiety, fear — but not in the way finn might think. she does not fear intimacy, sex, fucking. whatever it is called, it's just an act. she's seen animals, people, various species all in the throes of it both in person and via the occasional holocaster; she does not fear something so basic.
what worries her runs deeper. finn's easy reassurance — i have friends — only reminds her of her own shortcomings. how few friends she's ever had, how little she knows about making or keeping them. finn was less a friend and more of a lifeline when they'd met, and now... well, now he was more than a friend all the same, part of her heart and woven into the fabric of her existence. poe, too, a part of her she cannot quantify with something so simple as friend or ally.
will she be able to make friends? will anyone want to be her friend, now that the literal galaxy does not depend on it? ]
He hates it here, doesn't he?
[ it's a little less brightly said than it might be otherwise, the familiar tease muted by her own thoughts, but she suspects she's right all the same. ]
Does he — [ and then she gestures, with her free hand, at her own throat and then at finn's. is he a submissive is a question she still can't quite bring herself to ask. ]
no subject
what worries her runs deeper. finn's easy reassurance — i have friends — only reminds her of her own shortcomings. how few friends she's ever had, how little she knows about making or keeping them. finn was less a friend and more of a lifeline when they'd met, and now... well, now he was more than a friend all the same, part of her heart and woven into the fabric of her existence. poe, too, a part of her she cannot quantify with something so simple as friend or ally.
will she be able to make friends? will anyone want to be her friend, now that the literal galaxy does not depend on it? ]
He hates it here, doesn't he?
[ it's a little less brightly said than it might be otherwise, the familiar tease muted by her own thoughts, but she suspects she's right all the same. ]
Does he — [ and then she gestures, with her free hand, at her own throat and then at finn's. is he a submissive is a question she still can't quite bring herself to ask. ]