[ it is markedly easier, all things considered, to walk through the city beside him. despite the clunky metal around her throat and how aware rey is of its presence, the simple fact of poe's confident stride at her side seems to erase her from any onlookers' curious gazes. it is almost as if they look away altogether, deferring her respect by extension, and so in turn, rey tries to do the same.
she does her best not to stare, to keep her gaze on the path ahead, but poe's call to attention is just this side of unsubtle enough that her attention diverts. not for long, but long enough that she coughs, cheeks pink; her hand squeezes a bit more fervently in his as her gaze swings the other direction in an attempt to not attract too much attention. ]
Is it much farther?
[ it isn't meant to be a petulant question, nor is she unwilling to walk, but it does not take a particularly savvy person to recognize the tension in his limbs or the firm set of his jaw, the way he seems to start a thought only to cut it off. it's the sort of mannerisms she's seen in debriefings, when he'd like to say something but knows it'll be better not said out in public, choosing instead to save it for a quiet hallway or the privacy of his office. it doesn't happen often, but she's always noted when it does.
as an excuse, in case he needs one, she offers: ] I need to take this thing off.
[ her collar, the metal beginning to chafe along her neck; she fusses a fingertip from her free hand between skin and circle, but there isn't much room while it's still attached to move it. ]
no subject
she does her best not to stare, to keep her gaze on the path ahead, but poe's call to attention is just this side of unsubtle enough that her attention diverts. not for long, but long enough that she coughs, cheeks pink; her hand squeezes a bit more fervently in his as her gaze swings the other direction in an attempt to not attract too much attention. ]
Is it much farther?
[ it isn't meant to be a petulant question, nor is she unwilling to walk, but it does not take a particularly savvy person to recognize the tension in his limbs or the firm set of his jaw, the way he seems to start a thought only to cut it off. it's the sort of mannerisms she's seen in debriefings, when he'd like to say something but knows it'll be better not said out in public, choosing instead to save it for a quiet hallway or the privacy of his office. it doesn't happen often, but she's always noted when it does.
as an excuse, in case he needs one, she offers: ] I need to take this thing off.
[ her collar, the metal beginning to chafe along her neck; she fusses a fingertip from her free hand between skin and circle, but there isn't much room while it's still attached to move it. ]