She thinks he might ditch all talks of Galen - and, honestly, it'd be a relief if he did. She's spent her life hating him - hating him for what he'd done, hating him for forcing them to leave Mac-Vee and Beeny behind, hating him for leaving her, hating him for letting her go, hating him for forcing her to become a child soldier when all she'd wanted was to play pretend battles in the dirt on Lah'mu. Every ounce of her, every cell in her body vibrates with this acrimony, this anger.
And then - here comes this man, this pathetic excuse for a man - fumbling over his words, looking like he'd get blown over by a strong gust of wind - invoking her father's name like an oath, a prayer, an entitlement.
She clenches her jaw, teeth practically cracking under the pressure, threatening to explode like little supernovas in her jaw. Eyes are narrowed, searing straight through the husk of a man opposite her. Chest heaves with the ragged, furious breath, the influx - or is it the deprivation? - of which makes her dizzy, makes her feel vaporous and flimsy.
But when he continues - when tales of the father she'd had stolen - no, the father who'd willingly deserted her - come rushing forth from his mouth, she's unable to tamp down the engulfing rage. The flames spout from every orifice on her face, practically melting the skin away to reveal the hardened muscle and bone underneath.
She rushes forward, hand coming up to grip him by the turquoise of his shirt with violent intentions.
"Who the kriff are you to even talk about him like that? You're a defector from the Empire, then, are you? Then you're just as miserable and traitorous as he is."
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And then - here comes this man, this pathetic excuse for a man - fumbling over his words, looking like he'd get blown over by a strong gust of wind - invoking her father's name like an oath, a prayer, an entitlement.
She clenches her jaw, teeth practically cracking under the pressure, threatening to explode like little supernovas in her jaw. Eyes are narrowed, searing straight through the husk of a man opposite her. Chest heaves with the ragged, furious breath, the influx - or is it the deprivation? - of which makes her dizzy, makes her feel vaporous and flimsy.
But when he continues - when tales of the father she'd had stolen - no, the father who'd willingly deserted her - come rushing forth from his mouth, she's unable to tamp down the engulfing rage. The flames spout from every orifice on her face, practically melting the skin away to reveal the hardened muscle and bone underneath.
She rushes forward, hand coming up to grip him by the turquoise of his shirt with violent intentions.
"Who the kriff are you to even talk about him like that? You're a defector from the Empire, then, are you? Then you're just as miserable and traitorous as he is."