If he'd asked, she would have made it clear to him that it was less about pity — something she detested to be the recipient of, herself — and more because of a recognition of shared trauma, at what was likely a trusted person's hands. Rey's scars of abandonment and betrayal were internal, unlike this man's, and yet she knew they were crippling her emotionally all the same.
Alongside it came an innate desire to protect; if his hands were compromised, he wouldn't have much chance of defending himself were he to be attacked again for his wares.
Rey accepted the small box curiously after the stranger had rewrapped his hands, wide-eyed first and then wrinkling her nose in bemusement as he stood and slung his pack over his shoulder. Open when home. As thanks. A gift, and she hadn't even let him inside, yet.
"...You're not going to tell me what it is?" But she was grinning. She'd never received a gift before, not that she were ever able to remember, and giddy as a child she tried to guess what was inside it, holding it to her ear and shaking it gently even as he watched. She couldn't see it, but she imagined a smile underneath the shroud covering his mouth.
It was high time she headed back to Plutt to collect whatever meager rations he deigned fit for her salvages, so she stood as well, gathering her wares and placing the small gift box in the separate small pouch slung low across her hip. "I'll meet you back at the south entrance, when you're done. I won't take long."
The parts she'd gathered that day were apparently valuable enough to Plutt to warrant worth three quarter portions, even though Rey had estimated their worth at five. Strangely, Plutt had the audacity to ask of the companion she'd been seen talking with, but Rey had in not-so-polite terms told the blobnose to bugger off, that it was none of his business, and her trade made she headed out to the outpost's south entrance without further delay.
The stranger was waiting for her, as agreed upon; the sight of him stirred something in her that she vaguely recognized as anticipation, coupled with the still ever-present apprehension at extending her fragile trust toward someone. She'd never had a guest before now, in the meager shelter of a hollowed-out AT-AT that she called her home; not even Devi or Strunk had been allowed to visit her there.
I should ask him his name. Referring to him as a stranger, even in her head, seemed inappropriate if he would be staying in close quarters with her for the next several days.
poor guy. also np about the changes!
Alongside it came an innate desire to protect; if his hands were compromised, he wouldn't have much chance of defending himself were he to be attacked again for his wares.
Rey accepted the small box curiously after the stranger had rewrapped his hands, wide-eyed first and then wrinkling her nose in bemusement as he stood and slung his pack over his shoulder. Open when home. As thanks. A gift, and she hadn't even let him inside, yet.
"...You're not going to tell me what it is?" But she was grinning. She'd never received a gift before, not that she were ever able to remember, and giddy as a child she tried to guess what was inside it, holding it to her ear and shaking it gently even as he watched. She couldn't see it, but she imagined a smile underneath the shroud covering his mouth.
It was high time she headed back to Plutt to collect whatever meager rations he deigned fit for her salvages, so she stood as well, gathering her wares and placing the small gift box in the separate small pouch slung low across her hip. "I'll meet you back at the south entrance, when you're done. I won't take long."
The parts she'd gathered that day were apparently valuable enough to Plutt to warrant worth three quarter portions, even though Rey had estimated their worth at five. Strangely, Plutt had the audacity to ask of the companion she'd been seen talking with, but Rey had in not-so-polite terms told the blobnose to bugger off, that it was none of his business, and her trade made she headed out to the outpost's south entrance without further delay.
The stranger was waiting for her, as agreed upon; the sight of him stirred something in her that she vaguely recognized as anticipation, coupled with the still ever-present apprehension at extending her fragile trust toward someone. She'd never had a guest before now, in the meager shelter of a hollowed-out AT-AT that she called her home; not even Devi or Strunk had been allowed to visit her there.
I should ask him his name. Referring to him as a stranger, even in her head, seemed inappropriate if he would be staying in close quarters with her for the next several days.