[Kylo Ren. That's the only person he could mean, the only person who had tried to ply her for what she knew of the map. He's the last person she wants to think about - his face, his hand on his lightsaber, the shape of him on the bridge set against Han Solo's before, how he'd looked at her past his outstretched hand with his fingers twitching like he wanted her throat more than what lay inside her head. It makes her blood run cold, prickles the small hairs at the back of her neck. Some part of her goes swimming at the thought of him - untethered and wild and viciously angry for a hundred things including, maybe, the part where he must have hurt Finn's friend Poe Dameron. It puts a bitter taste in her mouth like standing too near an ion coil. She blinks rapidly. Something behind her eyes stings and she doesn't want to think about what that is.]
No. He isn't.
[She bends, fetches the roll of insulating tape from the deck, and moves with purpose toward the cockpit after BB-8.]
no subject
No. He isn't.
[She bends, fetches the roll of insulating tape from the deck, and moves with purpose toward the cockpit after BB-8.]