"Not broken," he concedes, careful with his body as he sets it next to hers. They're back in that hole, the one he went away to climb out of. Maybe he should have tried harder to find her, to bring her with him. Maybe he needed to trust Casey's advice, that he needs to leave people in them sometimes, that he needs to get himself out and do what he can for him, to even have the strength to help someone else.

He isn't sure he has it now, so soon after coming back, still trying to gauge how it feels to even walk through the village while others sleep.

All he can do is fold one hand under his legs, hold the mug to his chest, and perch on the stone at her hip. He's wearing the red jacket he found when he and Veronica had helped Casey rummage through the stores of abandoned items, and they make a bit of a pair. Most of his clothing is still black, but it's good to have anything else, any other color to pull on. Like he isn't just in mourning, anymore.

Taking a long sip from his tea, he studies the side of her face, turned away from him, just the curvature of her skull under the skin. "People punch each other for any stupid reason," he says. "I've had it happen plenty back home. Someone wants your wallet, someone wants you to go somewhere you don't want to go. I'm really alright, Jyn."