[Aside from the stolen memories of someone else (Rey - how bitter he'd been the moment he peeled back her thoughts and found Han Solo standing there, looking at her with pride and unworthy affection) he's never seen the man so committed. Moored and anchored and grounded in a way that grips what little light is left in him, kindling it like a dying flame. The pain of his own conflict is there-- always there, always wounding his resolve-- but lessened. Abated and subdued, and, for once, manageable.
His hand goes for the saber at his hip, unclasping it, but leaving it inactive under the weight of his palm.]
Go. [He says it again, urgency apparent in the way his voice catches.] I'll be right behind you.
no subject
His hand goes for the saber at his hip, unclasping it, but leaving it inactive under the weight of his palm.]
Go. [He says it again, urgency apparent in the way his voice catches.] I'll be right behind you.