Indi Rey of Jakku

It's only when he shifts to stand that her eyes open slowly, her gaze looking as if she were drunk. Her voice is still very sleepy and mumbled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you wet." She can feel her body being moved to sit while the softness of a towel cascades over her skin. So gentle and slow, as if she were a child being tended too.

Rey starts to ask if he'll carry her to bed but he's already scooping her back up into his arms before she can utter a word. Her lazy limbs wrap around his neck as she rests her head against his broad shoulder and closes her eyes once more. In the short time from the bathroom to the bedroom she's already started to drift again. "Stay with me" her voice is barely above a whisper.

He stooped, retrieving her discarded staff, and turned it in his palm. Somewhere above the copse, a bird of prey gave a shrill warning cry. 

“You hesitated because you failed to see me as an opponent,” he muttered, and tossed the staff onto Rey’s training kit. “Don’t make that mistake again.” 

Then he stepped past her, his black-knit shoulder brushing fronds hard enough to scatter dew across his back. He made his way to the ship with the impression of her thighs still coiling around him like a snake.

Distance was no balm, even as the next two days vanished inside the machinery of the First Order, beneath bloodless rooms full of officers too frightened to look at a mask and cowl, within minds he plucked like so much bruised fruit, through the viewport at the surf of a dying planet, where his senses flooded, inexplicably, with the water that ran from Rey’s hairline down her throat, and in the throwback from a planted Rebel landmine his men had not discerned. 

By the time he arrived outside Rey’s training quarters two nights later, his irritation had mounted, and he brought it with him into the hum of its shield walls. He stood with an ache in his ribs, the humming of the lesion at the back of his arm, and the sense that he would be kept waiting. 

The doors hissed then. Ren turned, stony-faced and dark-eyed, burdened by what he could not call loathing or resentment. 

Whispers of Ren's return circulated through the ship at a rapid speed but Rey knew before they reached her ears. In the center of her being there was a tug, not a violent feeling but a luring pull. She'd become more aware of the feeling and what it meant after that first night. Rey assumed that some kind of force connection had occurred when they'd shared what was in their minds.

Trading her mechanic uniform for her training attire she pulled her dark strands from her face into three buns on the back of her head. Plucking an apple from the bowl on the counter her free hand grabbed her staff and moved into the halls that connected her room to the training quarters. With a hiss the doors opened to reveal the broad back of her teacher. When he turned she paused, sensing something slightly off in the air around him.

"Then why point it out if we both already know?"

Taking another bite of the apple she moved further into the room, approaching the man whom most feared. "You're looking a little worse for wear" she pointed out as she circled him. "Mission not go to plan?" Hazels closed slowly as his scent hit her sending a feeling of comfort to flood her system. With a thick swallow she faced him again looking up to address his gaze.

With no warning she crouched and swept her staff out to take out his legs. She watched with pleasure as his tall form fell landing hard against the floor. Tapping her staff against his chest she grinned, "be more alert," she mocked. Turning on her heel she moved to the rooms control panel, pulling up the training grounds with a few movements of her fingers. "I edited the program while you were gone. Added a few more bots and environmental obstacles."

Watching as she prepared her broth, he took off his cloak. "I look after the forest. Most often that means simply checking that everything is growing as it should and seeing after the animals." Fortunately it all took more than adequate care of itself, especially when the humans stayed out of its borders like they were meant to.

Reaching into one of the pots and baskets of various foodstuffs, he produced a bag of dried meats for her. "I go in the day as often as I do the night. It depends on what suits my mood." Most of what he did depended on his mood, really, it just happened that his mood aligned with what nature needed in the moment.

Her eyes lifted as she stirred, "I would assume that the forest is just as active as it is during the day. What with all the night animals out hunting." But perhaps he was right in a way, night seemed to hold this kind of peaceful atmosphere, or perhaps it seemed so because human activity quieted.

Leaving the broth to simmer she took a seat nearby and folded her hands into her lap. "I know this situation is hardly ideal for either of us but I am not someone who begs or takes charity lightly. So I request that while I am here I'm able to earn my keep. If something needs done that is within my ability please do not hold back in asking. But only if the request is reasonable mind you."

"Maybe you should consider why I came after business hours and broke in," he points out as calmly as he's capable of, although he doesn't know if she'll bother to listen to him or put two and two together. "Do you think someone like Plutt has visitors like me for good reasons?"

He doesn't move when she yells at him, just watches her. Studies the way every twitch of her screams that she'll be in worse than trouble. Decides then that whatever his plans might have been for Plutt before, they'll now include at least a handful of broken bones.

The youth turned her back on him and looked to the small room she called hers. Her little haven in this hell hole of a life, a sanctuary that she'd created to keep her sane. If he was going to do what she thought all of that would go up in smoke and she'd be out on the streets. "Where the fuck do you expect me to go?"

It was a legit question and she planted her feet before him waiting an answer. If he was going to burn down the roof over her head, leave her homeless on the street then he best have an answer. It wasn't that she liked it here, that was far from it. But there was a fear of leaving the small amount of security she had even if it was provided by a terrorist. Surely a therapist would tell her that she was dealing was some form of Stockholm syndrome.

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