[there are people, countless people, who'll say what they think others want to hear, or who will, generally, spout shit for any reason at all. jyn hates those people, more than anything; some of them found their faces connecting with her fists or with the blunt end of her truncheons, and some of them she deeply wishes, still, had ended up there.
in front of her isn't one of those people.
his honesty is blunt, and it isn't kind — and to jyn, it's another kind of relief. because cassian's trust, her trust as a result, hadn't been misplaced; the thought sticks around, and maybe, if given enough time and opportunity, it could make a home next to the cave in her mind.
it's not her faction, she starts to say in reply after she considers his words, mouth even going so far as to start to form the words — only it stops before the process is ever complete. because she's made a choice, and that choice is as undeniable as what she's willingly accepted, lingering in her veins.
(what doesn't feel as wrong as he's saying, and not as wrong as it should.)
instead, she says, quietly,]
Thanks.
[it's soft, with more genuine gratitude than she actually knows how to express. one side or the other, one battle or another, that doesn't have to stand in the way of friends.
that's what she thinks she's had the potential to find here: a friend.]
I'll let you know, [she adds,] about the knife. [a smile blooms on her face — small but wholly brilliant.] It was good advice.
no subject
in front of her isn't one of those people.
his honesty is blunt, and it isn't kind — and to jyn, it's another kind of relief. because cassian's trust, her trust as a result, hadn't been misplaced; the thought sticks around, and maybe, if given enough time and opportunity, it could make a home next to the cave in her mind.
it's not her faction, she starts to say in reply after she considers his words, mouth even going so far as to start to form the words — only it stops before the process is ever complete. because she's made a choice, and that choice is as undeniable as what she's willingly accepted, lingering in her veins.
(what doesn't feel as wrong as he's saying, and not as wrong as it should.)
instead, she says, quietly,]
Thanks.
[it's soft, with more genuine gratitude than she actually knows how to express. one side or the other, one battle or another, that doesn't have to stand in the way of friends.
that's what she thinks she's had the potential to find here: a friend.]
I'll let you know, [she adds,] about the knife. [a smile blooms on her face — small but wholly brilliant.] It was good advice.