Bodhi's not conscious of most of Cassian's intricate maneuvers, and they work to some degree. He is glad of what's clearly an effort not to try and pin him down, though. Not all of what he takes from it is quite what his companions might have wanted--that Cassian was a sort of defector himself and from a much earlier age, and simply better, and that his own short, reluctant sentences have been met with much more thoughtful, thorough returns than they deserved. He's a bit more comfortable, but also very glad Jyn chimes in before he has to try to find an answer.
And then he's not, but at least squirming over mention of Galen is an entirely different level of discomfort. His own feelings aren't even relevant. He's guilty over even thinking of the man with Jyn there. Any time together, any words and memories, any importance Galen had for him feels stolen from the daughter he was separated from. Part of him wants to talk to her about her father, wants to go over the details that seem safe and the moments he turns over in his own head all the time, but even broaching the subject feels like a reminder she didn't have him. And Bodhi did.
It's lucky that he already knows a bit of that story from Galen's end. Being flustered distracts him a bit from listening, but he gets the gist and can fill in any holes he missed. Once again, they gave him quite a bit in return for, what, an acknowledgement that he has the job they already know he had and that he didn't accomplish much as a teenager? A proper answer feels as much like a duty as a natural gesture, but it's something. Bodhi gets most places by roundabout ways.
"The--the childhood bit was fine. Early on." War happened all at once for Jedha. There was no front on a little Mid-Rim world with a strong Jedi presence and not much significance beyond the religious. Before Imperial occupation, there were only disquieting rumors that bothered grown-ups. "School, temple visits. My... My parents owned a tea shop." He's not sure if he's appreciably increased his contribution. Most of those were sentence fragments at best. Funny, if he thinks farther back, it stings less. The NiJedha seen through the child's eyes is no less gone than the one he saw destroyed.
no subject
And then he's not, but at least squirming over mention of Galen is an entirely different level of discomfort. His own feelings aren't even relevant. He's guilty over even thinking of the man with Jyn there. Any time together, any words and memories, any importance Galen had for him feels stolen from the daughter he was separated from. Part of him wants to talk to her about her father, wants to go over the details that seem safe and the moments he turns over in his own head all the time, but even broaching the subject feels like a reminder she didn't have him. And Bodhi did.
It's lucky that he already knows a bit of that story from Galen's end. Being flustered distracts him a bit from listening, but he gets the gist and can fill in any holes he missed. Once again, they gave him quite a bit in return for, what, an acknowledgement that he has the job they already know he had and that he didn't accomplish much as a teenager? A proper answer feels as much like a duty as a natural gesture, but it's something. Bodhi gets most places by roundabout ways.
"The--the childhood bit was fine. Early on." War happened all at once for Jedha. There was no front on a little Mid-Rim world with a strong Jedi presence and not much significance beyond the religious. Before Imperial occupation, there were only disquieting rumors that bothered grown-ups. "School, temple visits. My... My parents owned a tea shop." He's not sure if he's appreciably increased his contribution. Most of those were sentence fragments at best. Funny, if he thinks farther back, it stings less. The NiJedha seen through the child's eyes is no less gone than the one he saw destroyed.