[ jyn puts her hands on his shoulders with the kind of seriousness and gravitas that only drunk people and toddlers can manage, earnest and a little concerned. is she speaking basic? is he speaking basic? has he been speaking his native tongue this whole time and she never noticed because of the auto-translate? no, no, she shakes her head in the middle of this silent conversation with herself. no, that can't be true, because it doesn't translate her huttese swears so it wouldn't translate a language from fest. or from grange. does she remember anything of her father's language?
she singsongs a grange lullaby, not realizing she is doing so aloud, and nods when she decides that, yes, she does remember her father's language. ]
Cassian. [ she says his name again like she's preparing for a test. ] Read me a poem.
[ he doesn't know what to expect when she reaches for him, but he's never really thought about a drunk jyn before and what she might be like. he hadn't theorized anything, hadn't the time. ]
[ he can almost see her thoughts going off in a distracted direction in the pause between his name and her clarification. but it's the lullaby that has him smiling a little more, confusion wiped off his face. ]
If you insist. [ he'd move her hands, but he still feels weird about initiating contact sometimes, so he just scrolls back through the collection he was reading to find his favorite so far. it's all very weird since it's all neural and it probably just looks like he's staring into space, or at her. ]
[ he picks one about trees to read aloud. she'd probably like that, she loves her plants. ]
[ luckily for him, once he agrees to read to her, jyn draws her hands back and gets comfortable to settle in and listen, gathering one of their pillows in her lap. it turns out she could listen to cassian read to her all day because once he is done with one poem, she requests another. and another. and another. and... ]
One more? [ he should probably cut her off now because she shows no sign of wanting to change the subject and move along to something else. drunkenness doesn't translate to a complete lack of attention span for jyn. ]
[ maybe he indulges her again and again simply because he doesn't want to turn her down and ruin this happy high she's found herself on. it's weird to be reading without anything physical in hand, but maybe it's just weird to read aloud in general. ]
[ has he ever done it, for actual leisure? ]
[ but eventually he does awkwardly sort of grin and duck his head, putting a pause on it. ]
Next time? [ not next time she gets drunk. just... another time, sometime. ]
[ normally he might roll his eyes at her and tell her to get the pants herself, but all he does instead is just roll his eyes and stand up. as much as he wants to watch her attempt to walk back across the room to the closet, he'll be nice. ]
[ her pants are abandoned to the usual spot on the floor, so he leans over to scoop them up - noticing the strange new bag in the process. he grabs that too and walks back into the bedroom, tossing the pants at her face while holding up the bag too. that one does not get thrown, fortunately. ]
I hope you did not accidentally overdraft in your drunken shopping spree. Did you buy more seeds?
I have credits to spare, [ she grouses, laying down so she can shimmy out of her pants without having to get up. she has all the grace of a drunk hippo and it takes much longer than necessary but eventually she is free! of her trousers!
and just lays on the bed for a little bit because that was a lot of effort. ]
[ he is completely unfazed by her no pants life. it's virtually the same in the mornings. ]
[ he is especially unconcerned because he's not sure he heard that right. it's... for him. it's something for him? she bought something for him? he stands surprised with the bag in his hand like he doesn't know what to do with it, because he can't remember the last time someone gave him a gift. he is holding it but he still doesn't know if he believes it. ]
she is pretty sure she isn't slurring her words or talking nonsense so doesn't know why he is clarifying something she was very straight-forward about. yes, she bought it for him and it was so much effort, mostly just the walking there because she and marcos kept getting distracted like
well, like drunk twenty-somethings with very sad lives. ]
[ he pulls the bag closer, like it's suddenly more valuable, and pulls it open with both hands. whatever it is, it's shoved in haphazardly and reaches in to tug it out. ]
[ it's a jacket, he realizes, right before it unfolds. a pretty nice one, some kind of leather. cassian knows he always kept more coats than strictly necessary, but it was always the one luxury he allowed himself - one that he could also say was a necessity. ]
[ and she got him one. ]
[ he's biting on a smile. ] You got me a jacket. I thought you said I already had too many?
[ she's looking at the ceiling, but her arm flicks out toward the closet as if to indicate how half the closet is cassian's jackets and 1/8th is jyn's three sets of clothing. it's still a paltry collection considering how enormous the closet is, all their clothes -- jackets included -- fit in one corner while the rest of the bars hang empty. ]
Try it on.
[ marcos is taller and broader than cassian so it was a snug fit on him, but it should fit cassian very well. ]
[ again, he indulges her, dropping the bag to the floor and pulling the jacket on over his shoulders. ]
[ it does fit, almost perfectly. it's loose enough that he can hide things in the pockets without a bulge, but not too loose that it flaps in the wind like a cape. zipping it up, he tugs on the sleeves, adjusting it as his smile finally breaks out, however small and restrained it is. ]
[ he holds out his arms. ] It fits. [ a beat. ] Why did you get me a jacket?
[ jyn props herself up on her elbows to look at him, head tilted to the side thoughtfully. and because she can't keep it up straight. ]
You didn't have one for cool weather. [ for warm weather, yes. for cold weather, yes. for wind and snow and, really, for every type of weather. cassian is prepared for anything, plans on plans on plans. but he didn't have a jacket for cool weather once the sun has gone down. ]
[ it's such a practical reason and it makes him feel warm anyway. she's right, he hadn't gotten this kind of jacket yet, but he's maybe surprised she'd noticed, however small their collection of personal clothes are. it would be easy to notice. ]
Are you looking to put on a fashion show? [ he still doesn't know how to deal with how this is making him feel, and she's still drunk, so making a joke is clearly the logical step.]
Yes. [ she hums into a smile, pleased that making marcos try on the jacket was successful because it hits cassian in all the right places that had been slightly off on her taller friend.
she flops back on the bed, satisfied, and wrestles with her sleep pants. she is not so far gone that she needs cassian's help there but it's a close thing. she stares up at the ceiling again like it holds the secrets to the universe and smacks her hand on the bed again. ]
[ oh no another smile!! what is happening, why does that look on her face make him feel so warm. it's definitely the jacket. it's too warm in here to be wearing a coat! ]
[ and then he feels weirdly nervous about sitting beside her, but it doesn't stop him from walking back over, even if he stops at the foot of the bed first. ]
Can I take this off first or is the show still in progress?
[ why is this entire situation somehow both weird and utterly normal at once? what is he saying?? what is even happening here?? how much longer can he possibly play it cool?? ]
[ jyn lifts up on her elbows to look at cassian and debates it with a studious, solemnity that resembles her father so much that it would be hard to say she inherited it from anyone else. ]
You may take it off.
[ she flops back on the bed, short hair fanning out around her head. ]
[ he almost laughs at the look on her face and the solemn agreement that he can take the jacket off. shaking his head, he shrugs it off, setting it neatly on the chair before he finally climbs back over to sit on the bed. he shuffles until he's sitting up, leaning against the headboard. ]
[ then he frowns, smile disappearing. he's not surprised by the shift, but he does find he misses the lighter back and forth, especially because he doesn't have an answer, doesn't like thinking about it. ] I thought so. But it is hard to imagine a process by which we could then be resurrected. Maybe if we ever figure out how people come to this world, we will get our answer.
[ jyn had told marcos about the medi-units from the newbie guide, but it wasn't like she really believed in them. not for her and cassian -- she doesn't even know how the death star worked against people. jedha was destroyed but it was still there, a crater where an entire city used to be. were there bodies in that crater? there hadn't been time for the alliance to look before they her hurrying off to scarif. maybe knowing what this weapon could do to people would have helped but those people were already dead... maybe nothing could have convinced the council.
still. were they vaporized? was it fire that consumed them? sometimes the heat still licks at her and she wakes up feeling it all over again but she doesn't know what it is. ]
Maybe we should tell someone.
[ maybe that idea is only acceptable to her right now because she is drunk. ]
[ it's the nature of the conversation for one, unprepared for thinking about their deaths, as much as it sneaks up on him half the time anyway. he won't shy away from it though, because... they probably should talk about it sometimes. even if she's drunk and might not even remember. there are a lot of questions about death and dying and the death star. ]
Do you want to tell someone? Who would we even tell?
[ he has told approximately no one yet. it feels weird to bring up at random, "how btw i died back home," and part of it is just keeping everything about himself locked up tight as a rule. ]
[ she rolls over to face him, body turning before her arm follows. she told marcos via text so she could walk the fuck away from it tbh but it was... kind of nice, being open with it.
her ghost joke wouldn't have made sense otherwise. ]
I didn't tell him about you. [ they died together, but that didn't mean she had any right to tell anyone about cassian dying as well. ]
[ he tilts his head, looking down at her. ] And it was not... strange? [ of course it was strange, but she doesn't seem bothered by speaking about it. it hadn't even occurred to him to worry about her sharing his death too, because no matter how much jyn comes to know about him, cassian still trusts her. ]
I have not told anyone. I am not sure I even know how.
[ it was probably easier with marcos because they don't know each other. she doesn't see him every day, they're friends in a very broad sense. which is maybe what jyn needs, friends that don't need her because she is unreliable.
jyn wriggles and shifts around until she can use cassian's lap as a pillow. ]
[ she is talking about being dead, but she is also now... in his lap. he blinks down at her and does his absolute best to avoid looking confused. where do his hands go now???? maybe he just... won't say anything about that. ]
No, I agree. Having someone we see virtually every day know sounds difficult.
[ he came close when he was talking about the rebellion, he thought about it, but it didn't feel right to leverage their deaths that way, especially knowing there would be follow up concern and questions. ]
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You want me to read to you?
[ he is caught off guard and maybe a little baffled by it. ]
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[ jyn puts her hands on his shoulders with the kind of seriousness and gravitas that only drunk people and toddlers can manage, earnest and a little concerned. is she speaking basic? is he speaking basic? has he been speaking his native tongue this whole time and she never noticed because of the auto-translate? no, no, she shakes her head in the middle of this silent conversation with herself. no, that can't be true, because it doesn't translate her huttese swears so it wouldn't translate a language from fest. or from grange. does she remember anything of her father's language?
she singsongs a grange lullaby, not realizing she is doing so aloud, and nods when she decides that, yes, she does remember her father's language. ]
Cassian. [ she says his name again like she's preparing for a test. ] Read me a poem.
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[ he can almost see her thoughts going off in a distracted direction in the pause between his name and her clarification. but it's the lullaby that has him smiling a little more, confusion wiped off his face. ]
If you insist. [ he'd move her hands, but he still feels weird about initiating contact sometimes, so he just scrolls back through the collection he was reading to find his favorite so far. it's all very weird since it's all neural and it probably just looks like he's staring into space, or at her. ]
[ he picks one about trees to read aloud. she'd probably like that, she loves her plants. ]
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One more? [ he should probably cut her off now because she shows no sign of wanting to change the subject and move along to something else. drunkenness doesn't translate to a complete lack of attention span for jyn. ]
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[ has he ever done it, for actual leisure? ]
[ but eventually he does awkwardly sort of grin and duck his head, putting a pause on it. ]
Next time? [ not next time she gets drunk. just... another time, sometime. ]
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Can you get my sleep pants?
[ if she gets up, she will not stay straight. she also wants water and a snack and a fluffy pillow, no she has a fluffy pillow. ]
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[ her pants are abandoned to the usual spot on the floor, so he leans over to scoop them up - noticing the strange new bag in the process. he grabs that too and walks back into the bedroom, tossing the pants at her face while holding up the bag too. that one does not get thrown, fortunately. ]
I hope you did not accidentally overdraft in your drunken shopping spree. Did you buy more seeds?
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and just lays on the bed for a little bit because that was a lot of effort. ]
It's for you.
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[ he is especially unconcerned because he's not sure he heard that right. it's... for him. it's something for him? she bought something for him? he stands surprised with the bag in his hand like he doesn't know what to do with it, because he can't remember the last time someone gave him a gift. he is holding it but he still doesn't know if he believes it. ]
You got me something?
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[ not him.
she is pretty sure she isn't slurring her words or talking nonsense so doesn't know why he is clarifying something she was very straight-forward about. yes, she bought it for him and it was so much effort, mostly just the walking there because she and marcos kept getting distracted like
well, like drunk twenty-somethings with very sad lives. ]
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[ it's a jacket, he realizes, right before it unfolds. a pretty nice one, some kind of leather. cassian knows he always kept more coats than strictly necessary, but it was always the one luxury he allowed himself - one that he could also say was a necessity. ]
[ and she got him one. ]
[ he's biting on a smile. ] You got me a jacket. I thought you said I already had too many?
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[ she's looking at the ceiling, but her arm flicks out toward the closet as if to indicate how half the closet is cassian's jackets and 1/8th is jyn's three sets of clothing. it's still a paltry collection considering how enormous the closet is, all their clothes -- jackets included -- fit in one corner while the rest of the bars hang empty. ]
Try it on.
[ marcos is taller and broader than cassian so it was a snug fit on him, but it should fit cassian very well. ]
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[ it does fit, almost perfectly. it's loose enough that he can hide things in the pockets without a bulge, but not too loose that it flaps in the wind like a cape. zipping it up, he tugs on the sleeves, adjusting it as his smile finally breaks out, however small and restrained it is. ]
[ he holds out his arms. ] It fits. [ a beat. ] Why did you get me a jacket?
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You didn't have one for cool weather. [ for warm weather, yes. for cold weather, yes. for wind and snow and, really, for every type of weather. cassian is prepared for anything, plans on plans on plans. but he didn't have a jacket for cool weather once the sun has gone down. ]
Turn around.
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Are you looking to put on a fashion show? [ he still doesn't know how to deal with how this is making him feel, and she's still drunk, so making a joke is clearly the logical step.]
[ he still turns around though. ]
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she flops back on the bed, satisfied, and wrestles with her sleep pants. she is not so far gone that she needs cassian's help there but it's a close thing. she stares up at the ceiling again like it holds the secrets to the universe and smacks her hand on the bed again. ]
Come back.
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[ and then he feels weirdly nervous about sitting beside her, but it doesn't stop him from walking back over, even if he stops at the foot of the bed first. ]
Can I take this off first or is the show still in progress?
[ why is this entire situation somehow both weird and utterly normal at once? what is he saying?? what is even happening here?? how much longer can he possibly play it cool?? ]
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You may take it off.
[ she flops back on the bed, short hair fanning out around her head. ]
Do you think we actually died?
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[ then he frowns, smile disappearing. he's not surprised by the shift, but he does find he misses the lighter back and forth, especially because he doesn't have an answer, doesn't like thinking about it. ] I thought so. But it is hard to imagine a process by which we could then be resurrected. Maybe if we ever figure out how people come to this world, we will get our answer.
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still. were they vaporized? was it fire that consumed them? sometimes the heat still licks at her and she wakes up feeling it all over again but she doesn't know what it is. ]
Maybe we should tell someone.
[ maybe that idea is only acceptable to her right now because she is drunk. ]
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[ it's the nature of the conversation for one, unprepared for thinking about their deaths, as much as it sneaks up on him half the time anyway. he won't shy away from it though, because... they probably should talk about it sometimes. even if she's drunk and might not even remember. there are a lot of questions about death and dying and the death star. ]
Do you want to tell someone? Who would we even tell?
[ he has told approximately no one yet. it feels weird to bring up at random, "how btw i died back home," and part of it is just keeping everything about himself locked up tight as a rule. ]
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[ she rolls over to face him, body turning before her arm follows. she told marcos via text so she could walk the fuck away from it tbh but it was... kind of nice, being open with it.
her ghost joke wouldn't have made sense otherwise. ]
I didn't tell him about you. [ they died together, but that didn't mean she had any right to tell anyone about cassian dying as well. ]
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I have not told anyone. I am not sure I even know how.
[ beyond just... telling anyone he's head. talking about himself. ]
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[ it was probably easier with marcos because they don't know each other. she doesn't see him every day, they're friends in a very broad sense. which is maybe what jyn needs, friends that don't need her because she is unreliable.
jyn wriggles and shifts around until she can use cassian's lap as a pillow. ]
I don't think I could tell Daisy.
[ not to her face, at least. ]
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No, I agree. Having someone we see virtually every day know sounds difficult.
[ he came close when he was talking about the rebellion, he thought about it, but it didn't feel right to leverage their deaths that way, especially knowing there would be follow up concern and questions. ]
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