It isn't all right, not by any means, not at the core of Jyn's being. Whatever part of her that might still be a soldier - the essence of who she's been since the Man in White had located them on Lah'mu - it still exists. No matter how hard she tries to shed it, leave it behind like a creature molting what no longer fits, what no longer serves a purpose, still it stays. But perhaps that isn't the point. Perhaps the point isn't what she thinks or what she was or what she might be.

Perhaps the point is that she's here, now. Able and free to be whatever, whomever she wants. With time, and with patience - but still, freedom.

Tentative eyes crawl towards his, fearful of what they might find; but instead of the fury, instead of the blaze she expects - she finds softness, and kindness. She turns her hand over in her lap, extends it towards him just enough - allowing him to decide to move the rest of the way, if he wants.

"I can do that," she offers, words colored with an exhale of a laugh. "Perhaps I should take up ceramics, replace them myself."