Hanna was about one minute away from stomping her foot, and not long after that, the screaming would begin; he knew all too well how this worked, by now.

“She gets that from you,” noted Rey, lightly, before swooping in to pull the four-year-old up into her arms.

“Think again, sweetheart– that squinty frown thing is all you.”

“We can debate the finer points of her inherited traits later,” she said through gritted teeth, as Hanna began to wail, “but right now, can you please go get her stuffed wampa?”

“Happily,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Rey’s temple and a less-soft squeeze to her behind, “and I’m looking forward to that… debate.”