[ he can tell she's likely feeling a bit over her head, and if she's just gotten here, that feeling is only going to be all the more overwhelming. he'd fought hard at the start, desperate to leave, to fight back, and even if he plays along more in recent days, it's hardly that he's come to embrace anything that they do. but he knows when to seek out his advantages, and when to play the offense, because it's likely that if he were entirely on his own, he'd be more prone to putting up his resistances. the difference is he has people to protect, and until he can free them of this hell, he'd be knee deep in it with them.

as simple as the dancing is, though, it still always feels like one of the stranger things he finds himself doing here, not necessarily because of the act itself but because of where it takes him. he'd dance with maria so many nights all those years ago that when he finds himself in that sway, it's almost strange not to meet her smile when he gazes in front of him.

still, he's relaxed, strangely, even now with the t-shirt still clasped around their shoulders. the tension there gives out for something easing as he finds a casual rhythm to the smooth music, slow enough that he doesn't have to surprise jyn with any sudden steps. swaying proves to be enough, gently pulling her in small circles in this corner of the room. ]

You don't really gotta thank me. [ he turns his face away, something a bit modest in the quirk of his lips, like he doesn't even know how to take a "thank you" when it's gifted to him. but his voice is quiet, calm, as he continues. ] It's just I've been here long enough now, and — and, well, I know what it's like to feel ... feel stuck. When your fingers got that itch to do the kind of things you're used to, when you're better at fighting your way through shit you don't like that instead of just taking it. It ain't easy.