[ Rey leans back against the steel walls of the ship, crossing her arms over her chest, and for a moment, she looks uncannily similar to its previous owner, a looseness in her gait and evaluative skepticism in her stubborn expression. Han had more of an influence on her than either of her actual parents; he'd been the first one to be there for her, and it was in little ways that her resulting idolization of him showed. ]

You'd have dealt with it already. I know.

[ She hesitates for a long moment, obviously thinking of something but in conflict, deciding whether or not it will benefit either of them to dig up what had happened on Starkiller Base. The wound was still fresh enough to be avoided, but this was about necessity. ]

I had the chance once, right after he killed Han. I could have killed him on that base, and I wanted to. Because it was easy. Because I hated him. Not because it was right.

[ Her shoulders push back, easing her off the wall as she drops her arms, heading up towards the cockpit. ]

If I'm going to do it, it has to feel right.