"That's just it, Kira," Jyn replies, matching the tenor of his tone with a slow-burning ferocity in hers, seeking out the darkness of his eyes again. "I don't know what it means to be myself outside of being a soldier. I was a child when I'd first been given a blaster. Everything I did, everything I was taught, everything I knew was about how to disarm enemies with my hands, where to shoot to disarm and where to shoot to kill, offensive and defensive tactics in the jungle or in the desert or on a tundra. That's all I've ever known." She feels the tremble in her fingertips as she speaks, as the misplaced anger begins to froth and bubble at her lips. It isn't Kira's fault she'd had her childhood stripped away from her.

She drags her gaze away, closes her eyes, attempts to steady herself with a slow breath. Counting, as she'd been taught to do, to stay calm, stay patient.

"Asking me to be myself is asking me to be a soldier. They're one-and-the-same now." Eyes flicker open, find her bone-white knuckles clenching the mug in her hands. "But I can try. To separate them." She pauses, stealing a furtive glance out of the corner of her eye. "I want to separate them."