[ There's a sour sickness to the words, the bile that rises in her throat twisting them as she processes the full meaning. ]
His father. Han was his father.
[ And he'd killed him. She felt faintly feverish—with loathing or fear, she couldn't be sure, but she didn't like either possibility. And Leia, too. Her sorrow felt two-fold, now, in retrospect, and Rey's chest ached with it. ]
no subject
[ There's a sour sickness to the words, the bile that rises in her throat twisting them as she processes the full meaning. ]
His father. Han was his father.
[ And he'd killed him. She felt faintly feverish—with loathing or fear, she couldn't be sure, but she didn't like either possibility. And Leia, too. Her sorrow felt two-fold, now, in retrospect, and Rey's chest ached with it. ]
No.