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"So what's the deal between you and Andor?"
Solo's eyes are casually trained on the control panel, his fingers light and precise as he punches coordinates into the console, and Jyn's grateful for his lack of attention as she feels the heat creep up to her cheeks. It only takes half a second before she schools her features and furrows her brow in careful annoyance, her default setting when interacting with the General. "I wasn't aware that there was a deal between Captain Andor and I," she half shrugs.
Solo scoffs. "Captain Andor. You're fucking with me, kid, right?" He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head a little; Jyn can't help but be reminded a bit of a dog. As he turns and catches the scowl on her face, his eyes widen. "Come on, kid."
Jyn almost petulantly says that she is older than his beloved Princess, but only grits her teeth. Solo is watching her now, curious, if a little amused, hazel eyes staring intently into hers - Jyn refuses to give him the satisfaction of looking embarrassed. "Cassian and I are part of the same team," she relents, simple, and uncrosses her arms for good measure, forces the tension to roll off her shoulders.
There's nothing to discuss; and even if there were, then Han Solo would be the last person Jyn would turn to.
He doesn't seem to get the hint, though. Han Solo is as good a general - Jyn hates to admit it in that moment - as he is terrible at relationships. "I'm not trying to be pushy here, Erso," he goes on, and Jyn wants to point out that it's exactly what he's being right now, but Solo keeps speaking, "I just know what that's like, okay?"
"What? You got a thing with Andor, General?" Jyn's lips twitch in a grin that only grows wider as Han looks like he's about to choke on his tongue. "Though I've seen the look in Luke Skywalker's eyes when he sees you. Risking your life with someone, going on adventures with them, that really does the trick, doesn't it?"
Han gives her a look that says he'd like nothing more than to strangle her, before he sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. "You're such a dick, Erso." He turns away from her and adjusts his earpiece, says something to Chewbacca in a language Jyn doesn't recognize, even though she does speculate she picks the Corellian word for dick. The moment passes, and Jyn foolishly thinks he's let it go when Han says, soft, softer than she's ever imagined he could be: "For what it's worth - I know what it's like to love someone in war. I don't know what I'd do with peace, either."
Peace is a strange thing, Jyn muses. The Empire is gone, but she's not exactly sure that this is peace, though; and since loving in time of war is stupid and dangerous, she'd rather leave that to people like Solo, who pretend they don't care about anything but money and power when she knows he'd lay down his life for the Princess or Skywalker in the blink of an eye.
She settles more comfortably in her seat - they're still a good couple of hours away from Hoth - and rolls her shoulders, hears the slight crack of joints as she feels the exhaustion fall upon her. Knowing Han will see them back to base safely, Jyn allows herself to rest and close her eyes.
She doesn't catch the fond look in Han's eyes that says takes one to know one, kid.
Bodhi is waiting up on her as they land on Hoth, and Jyn is as overjoyed to see him as she is the tiniest bit disappointed by the absence of her other teammates. Han passes her with a warm, quick squeeze of the shoulder, a nod of the head to Bodhi, and a stupid, lovesick grin plastered on his face as he heads towards the briefing room - to Leia.
Bodhi smiles at her and engulfs her into a semi-awkward hug, half weak like he's surprised himself with the impulse. Jyn reciprocates with more warmth; she has missed him, missed them all. Han isn't bad company - at least when he's not prodding her about her feelings - but going on a mission without her friends just doesn't feel right.
Joining the Pathfinders did feel right; Jyn is aware that her skills are different from Cassian's, rebel intelligence, soldier and war hero, or Bodhi's, whom Luke Skywalker admires in that boyish way because he can just fly anything. With the Pathfinders Jyn doesn't have to obey orders she doesn't understand - it's reconnaissance missions, hand-to-hand combat, blaster fights, far away from the politics and mind games of a war she's much more at ease waging out there in the battlefield. But she still misses her Rogues; still feels a thrill when they do partake in the same mission every now and them, still calls them her team. She told Han so.
"How did it go?" Bodhi asks into their embrace, before he pulls away a little, inspects her face with a scrutiny Jyn can't help feeling fond about. Were it anyone else, Jyn would feel coddled, or a little too hot. "How are you?"
"Fine," Jyn answers, and it's the truth - it was an easy two-person mission, get in, get out. Han and Chewbacca could have dealt with it on their own, but...
Cassian had left on a mission of his own, and Hoth felt colder than ever. Jyn had volunteered the next morning and Han had said nothing about it until the ride home, with his stupid talk about feelings. Jyn wanted to gag.
"How are things on here?" Jyn asks Bodhi as they exit the landing pad, and he leads her to the mess hall. How is everyone, is what she asks, knows that Bodhi understands.
"Baze and Chirrut sent word that they were good," Bodhi says, cautious, as he looks at her with a careful expression that makes Jyn's blood freeze in her veins.
Baze and Chirrut are okay, she repeats in her head, lets the words and the comfort they bring sink in, tries to cling on that sweet feeling. But his name is on her mind and on her lips within the next heartbeat. "Cassian?"
Bodhi makes a visible effort to maintain eye contact, when it feels like he'd want nothing more than to stare at the floor, let it swallow him whole. "Nothing yet," he says, insists on the last word, pours as much hope into it as he can.
Jyn nods her head at Bodhi, grateful for his presence, his friendship, and his safety. "Nothing yet," she echoes.
Nothing yet, she tells herself as she takes a seat at a table with Bodhi, not far from some of her teammates from the Pathfinders. Kes Dameron's son has just turned three; his wife is already galaxies away, on a mission he's not a part of. Nothing yet, she says to the mirror as she washes her face; lies in bed, the icy air filling her lungs as much as Cassian's absence.
Nothing yet. Nothing yet. Nothing yet.
A month comes and goes.
The courtship of Princess Leia amuses Chirrut as much as it unsettles Kay-Tu. Without Cassian here, Bodhi tries his best to explain the intricacies and semantics of human interactions to the droid who looks more and more distressed by the minute, if droids can feel distress, Jyn figures.
"I do not understand," Kay-Tu says for the fifth time. "Senator Organa seems to be a respected member of the Council. Cassian says that General Solo is an idiot -"
"You may not want to say that too loud, Kay-Tu," Bodhi interrupts him, looking around the mess hall, checking that nobody else heard the droid. "General Solo is not a bad man, you know."
"He is kind of an idiot, though," Baze interjects, and Bodhi's jaw drops as he looks at Baze with eyes that scream a little help here, please. "What?" Baze asks around a mouthful. "Solo's a fun guy to get drunk with, but he's no military. I get why Cassian's not so into him."
At that, Chirrut grins. "Captain Andor already has his hands full of things he doesn't fully understand," he says, enigmatic to no one but Kay-Tu. Jyn almost wants to kick his leg under the table, but she's not twelve. She won't dignify him with a reaction or an answer.
"Should I infer that this is another one of these situations when you are not saying exactly what you mean?" Kay-Tu asks, his metal head tilted to the side in some of the most human reactions Jyn has ever seen on him. If he could cock an eyebrow, she bets he would in that moment.
Jyn glares at Chirrut, who only grins wider. Sensing the murderous mood coming from Jyn, Bodhi tries to deflect the tension. "That's for another day, Kay-Tu. Humans often hide what they truly mean behind humor. Cassian must have already told you. But we were talking about General Solo and -"
"You do realize you don't have to call him General when he's not around, right?" Jyn interrupts. She barely remembers to call him sir even as he gives her an order. Then again, Bodhi is so much more disciplined than she is; perhaps the only one Cassian gets and who doesn't make him pull at his hair the same way human ways do to his droid.
Bodhi almost sticks out his tongue at her, and she's missed this, too. The camaraderie they all share, this carefreeness that shines through the all-white, lifeless Hoth. He resumes trying to explain love and how it doesn't make sense to an aggravated Kay-Tu who announces, final, that a study in humans is the most exhausting thing he's ever had to process.
Bodhi's words keep echoing in Jyn's head as the days go by, as another mission sees any of them leaving, promising to stay in touch if they can. Jyn leaves and returns from two missions with the Pathfinders and a stupidly long recon mission with Han whining about women through three different systems, and Bodhi's simple but very true words stay with her.
The bed still feels too big, the room too silent without Cassian's steady breathing, the quiet lull of his heartbeat. But Jyn fills in his absence with words she could have never strung together on her own; she lets their truth sink in, tastes their weight on her tongue, tries to speak them as if he were here.
Nothing yet.
"Shot."
A single word transmitted over a hologram feels like a punch in the gut, like her throat is closing up as Jyn desperately tries to come up for air.
Shot. Cassian. Nothing yet. Shot.
Bodhi looks at her, uncertain, eyes dark and hollow. Baze watches her go.
It's Luke who finds her.
It's Han who holds her as she cries, hates herself for it. Jyn hasn't cried like this since she was eight, hidden from the rest of the world by a cave and a hatch she's kept firmly closed ever since. When her father died...there hadn't been time for grief. There's never been. The illusion of peace amidst war still doesn't allow time to mourn those who didn't survive, or the people they could have been.
"He's alive, kid," Han murmurs into her hair, his hand solid and warm as it rests against the nape of her neck. "He's gonna be okay." Beneath her cheek Jyn can hear his heartbeat, focuses on the steadiness, wills it to transfer to her own body. Han isn't much older than she is, but in moments like these - his arms are strong and his heart is bigger than he is - Jyn believes him.
Jyn stays back as Han speaks with Leia, her eyes focusing on anything - the pristine wall, the loose hole at the end of her sleeve - but the two. They speak in hushed tones, one of Han's hands laying softly upon Leia's waist, his thumb running soft circles inwards. Leia holds her head proud, but with her small frame her eyes are level with his chest, not looking up into his. If Jyn wasn't certain this was impossible, she'd almost believe Leia is about to cry.
The intimacy between the two feels suffocating. It brings Jyn to nights spent huddled in Cassian's warmth, no words spoken; only two bodies seamlessly in tune, his arm wrapped around her back, her face pressed in his neck. She doesn't remember who leaned in first; what she does remember is the fever Cassian's touch brings, the tickle of his scruff against the sensitive skin of her thigh, the way his voice gets raw and hoarse when she wraps her fingers around him - stolen moments she's replayed in her head more times than she dares to count.
"I know," she hears Leia say, soft; a little scared. "Go on, then," she adds with a gentle push at Han's chest. "Go."
Her voice is weaker, and Han's hands go up to hers, his fingers gently closing around her wrists. "Andor will be okay," he says, and Jyn hears so will I.
She knows the code.
Han retreats, and Leia looks up at her as if seeing Jyn for the first time. She's regal again; Senator Organa, Princess of Alderaan, no enamored girl worried about her half-smuggler, half-General of a boyfriend. "You bring Captain Andor home, Sergeant Erso," she says, solemn.
You get home safe. Jyn nods her head, and falls into step with Han as he turns his back to the Princess and leaves.
Jyn's only a Sergeant - she's too undisciplined to ever go up the ranks, she figures. Han deals with her okay because ultimately she gets the job done, but Jyn is very aware that others wouldn't.
As a Sergeant, Jyn isn't entrusted with classified missions. As a General, Han doesn't give a fuck about that sort of things. "So, from what I've gathered from his mission log," he says after a while, "Andor was on Ilum. Crystal mine, mostly. Jedi stuff, you should ask Luke. Or not," he adds, as he remembers that Jyn isn't supposed to know about any of this. "We'd gotten word that there had been unusual activity there. Non-friendly activity."
"How did he get shot?" Jyn cuts to the chase. She doesn't care about the details - all she cares about is knowing who did this, and how she can make them pay.
Han lifts an eyebrow. He's used to her murderous moods by now, after three years wading through the galaxy beside her. His gaze on her is fond, always amused, and in that instant - proud. "Andor took care of that, kid," he answers. "Three assailants, all dead. Left Andor with a hole in his chest, though."
The words are blunt, but they're what Jyn needs. When Han Solo has become the person to know this, Jyn is not sure about - but for the first time since she's started serving under his orders, she's glad that he's the one here with her.
"He'll still be more handsome than you are," Jyn snorts, the tension still heavy on her heart, but more like static white noise than a powerful blast.
Han chuckles. "Don't I know it, Erso," he laughs, good-natured. "These days even old Chewie gets more attention than I do."
She thinks of Kay-Tu then, of his incomprehension regarding Princess Leia and Han's relationship. Han is arrogant and cynical and reckless, flaws in Kay-Tu's eyes that Jyn understands and shares. Does Kay-Tu look at Cassian and her the same way? Does he not see the rest; Han's loyalty, her own desire to belong and stay?
Silence settles, and it's companionable, comforting. Somehow, Han looks more unhinged than her, though. "Something's the matter, sir?" Jyn asks, treading out of her comfort zone. She hates it when Han - anybody - pushes.
She watches him chew on his bottom lip. She gets him, same as he gets her in many ways; but what Jyn doesn't get is who he is with Leia, who he is when he's not just an arrogant, cynical and reckless smuggler turned Rebel General. Who is she herself, when she thinks of Cassian and her as a unit?
Perhaps that's why she doesn't give the thought too much of her time.
"No, not much," Han shakes his head. He looks hesitant for a moment, like he's pondering whether to share something with her or not. They're not friends, per say; whenever Jyn's not with the Pathfinders, they hardly interact.
It's kind of a shame, now that she thinks about it.
She does something she never thought she would, then. Jyn extends her hand over the console, lays her open palm on the armrest of his chair.
Han twines his fingers with hers, and holds on for the rest of their flight.
Cassian looks worse than she imagined.
He's pale, paler than she is, and his torso is wrapped in bandages the med droids keep changing as his wound keeps bleeding out. A droid gives her his chance of survival - the number is high, but Jyn isn't listening. Her eyes scan his shape; his scruff has grown into a full beard, soft under her fingers as she runs them on his face, cups his jaw, traces his chapped lips. Bruises scatter about his chest, his abdomen; the familiar patch of rough, thicker skin at his hip feels foreign, more fatal under the stark med bay light.
"He's been in and out of it, but the droids say he's responding positively to their treatment," Han says, reassuring and warm as he squeezes her shoulder. She's seen Cassian do that to Bodhi a lot, and it helps tethering her, a solid reminder that she's here, that Han is here for her, and that Cassian is alive and will be okay. "I should probably, uh, report back to Base," he adds, leaving his sentence open in the air, waiting for any sign from her that she wants him to stay, ready to.
Jyn nods her head absently. "I'll be fine," she says, to him or to her, she's not quite sure. Han's hand traces down her back, rubbing awkwardly before it leaves her skin and she hears his footsteps in the distance.
She stares at Cassian then, and she's glad to be alone when she starts feeling her chin quiver, and her knees wobble beneath her.
He doesn't awaken on the first day.
His sleep is uneasy, his eyes moving behind his lids, and Jyn smoothes his hair back, strokes his cheek, down his neck, murmurs soft, reassuring things she doesn't quite believe in, hoping against all odds that her voice will somehow reach him and appease him.
In a way, it does. But a limp, still Cassian Andor is just as scary. She's the more restless of the two, but Cassian is always up and about, duty coming first, jumping from one mission to another. It's the longest Jyn has ever seen him lying down. She hates it.
Han comes back after a couple of hours and finds her sitting on the edge of Cassian's bed, her hand twined with his pale one on top of the sheets. He drags the chair beside Cassian's bed for himself, slumps into it with the grace of a young wookie. "The Council said you should take all the time you need," he informs her, like it's taken him two hours to gather that information, like he's had a legitimate reason to be away other than wanting to offer her some privacy with the man she doesn't know what to call. Partner seems an underrated word; it doesn't quite cover it. What is it called, someone who offers you peace and absolution with their lips, the gentle touch of roughened hands against scarred skin?
"What about you?" she asks simply. She finds it hard to believe that the Alliance could just spare one of their best Generals to escort a Sergeant and babysit an injured Captain. Then again, Jyn wonders who it is that Han really answers to. He's military and he's not, Jyn agrees to that, and he only listens to his heart - the one beating up against his chest, and in the shape of her Royal Highness.
Han shrugs. "Leia would kill me if I left you here all alone. I'm not looking to be called an insensitive pig again."
Against her will, Jyn feels her lips twitching into a small smile. "What did you do now?" she teases.
Han's eyes widen, and she should tell him, Jyn reckons, that this doesn't work on anyone. "Why would you assume that I did anything in the first place?" he asks in faux-hurt.
"Senator Organa seems a reasonable woman," Jyn offers simply. Despite being in love with you, she hears in Kay-Tu's emotionless tone. "She wouldn't call you a pig for no reason."
Han rolls his eyes and huffs, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. Whatever he's done to Leia, Jyn figures it can't be that bad, what with the way these two looked upon saying goodbye.
"Leia is pregnant," he says after a while.
"Oh," Jyn's mouth forms the word before she can refrain it. Han echoes her, mouths the word, amused. "I mean, wow," Jyn goes on. "Congratulations."
Jyn doesn't care much about children - it's more that she doesn't give them too many of her thoughts. Having children in the universe they live in is such a ludicrous idea to her, almost as if people thought they could just fall in love and grow old together and be happy, like none of the horror they've experience has ever existed.
Cassian's fingers twitch against her, a quick spasm as he sleeps on. She looks away.
"If you'd told me I would join this crazy rebellion and...you know? Princess like her, guy like me..." Han muses, wiping his hand over his face in a tired gesture. "It's been a crazy couple of weeks, to say the least."
"Years," Jyn chuckles under her breath. "So what did you do?" she presses. Getting pregnant is a couple thing, Jyn reckons; Leia can't exactly blame him for it.
"That's the thing!" Han exclaims, surly. "I don't know. One moment she's telling me she's going to have a baby and I was so - happy, you know? Like, I didn't know that this is how I would react, but I was, and I told her I loved her and that I wanted to marry her and -"
"Oh, no, you didn't," Jyn shakes her head, and looks at him like he is the idiot Baze and Cassian called him.
"What?!" Han asks, looking so confused Jyn almost feels bad for him. "Isn't that the right thing to do? Like, don't you chicks like it when a guy does the right thing?!"
Jyn keeps shaking her head. She closes her eyes, pinches the ridge of her nose with her free hand. Cassian is still, seemingly at peace; Jyn wonders how that can be when Han is in the same room. "I cannot believe you just called Senator Organa a chick," she sighs heavily. "What are you, twelve?"
"Oh, don't be such a dick, Erso," Han says, sounding twelve. "You know what I meant." He all but groans, standing up and pacing the tiny room in a way that makes Jyn feel nauseous. "I just wanted her to see I was serious about this. About her."
He's being sweet, Jyn notices, but completely missing the point. "Have you tried putting yourself in her shoes?" she inquires, hoping he'll process things on his own and that she won't have to spell it out for him. Telling her superior that he's an adorable idiot isn't part of her job description.
"Jyn," he says, solemn, as he stops pacing. "I already have a hard time putting myself in mine."
Jyn doesn't dignify that with an answer.
Three days in, and Cassian wakes to the light weight of a sleeping Jyn, her head resting atop his shoulder, her tiny body squeezed in between his and the edge of the metallic bed.
Han Solo is looking at him, tired eyes and unshaven jaw. "Listen, Andor," he says in lieu of a proper good morning. "Whatever you're doing with Erso, promise me you won't ask her to marry you anytime soon. She might just shoot you dead."
Cassian frowns and tries to speak, but his throat hurts, something dark and metallic clouding his taste buds. Swallowing hard, he coughs, and Han gets up quickly to get him a glass of water that he holds up to his mouth, gentle in a way Cassian didn't expect. "Thank you," he manages to get out after he's swallowed two glasses. "And, uh...thanks for the advice, I guess."
"You're welcome," Han nods. "General Draven wants to debrief you as soon as you feel up to it," he adds, small talk out of the table now.
Cassian tries to sit up a little more without jostling Jyn awake. The task ends up being way more difficult than he expected. "I'm good," he lies easily.
Han Solo laughs - a smug, full-on laughter that pisses Cassian off; he was wondering when his annoyance at Han Solo would start. "Listen, Andor," he starts, patronizing in a way that makes Cassian want to punch the smugness off his face. "That girl has been worrying herself over you for the past three months. And I like that girl, okay? So you're gonna let her take care of you a little, and I'll send word you're awake in about twelve hours. Deal?"
Cassian looks down at Jyn, her hair mussed up about her forehead and over her eyes, her nose furrowed into the crook of his neck. Her hand is feather light above his heart, and he could stay like this forever.
Giving a nod of his head to the other man, Cassian sees Solo relax in his seat, still smug, but softer around the edges. "Good, good," he says, and then gets up, a little abrupt. "I've got a Princess to apologize to."
And he leaves, Cassian even more confused about the man than he's ever been.
Jyn sleeps better near Cassian. It's not one of these things where she cannot sleep without him - it's just that she's more relaxed, more at ease when he's there, with the feel of his chest against her back, their fingers twined over her middle. At first, she'd sought him out because her nightmares were plagued by his death, Bodhi's, her friends'; sleeping beside him helped, because she'd eventually wake beside him, too, and be reminded that he was alive and well. It'd taken a while before Jyn admitted to herself that she liked it for reasons that weren't related to Cassian's well-being.
Huddled so close to him, in this tiny, uncomfortable hospital bed, is the best sleep she's gotten in over three months, since that last night where they'd both been on Hoth at the same time. A rare and rarer things lately, but still just as cherished.
Blinking sleepy eyes, Jyn slowly comes to, only to find Cassian looking down at her, still pale, but with eyes so fond they light up his entire face. "Hey," he says, soft like he can be, like she wants to be with him. He caresses her cheek with his fingers, and it feels like home, the laughter lines that have replaced the worry around his eyes, the calloused skin so smooth against her scarred one.
Jyn tilts her head up, slow, lazy as she presses her mouth against his. His lips are chapped, too lonely without hers for months, but he tastes like home, too. Her kiss says hello, I've missed you, and his arms tightening around her echo the thought, show urgency and deliberate care all at once.
His kiss feels like a promise sealed with lips instead of rings.
Her hand is still clasped in his as they land on Hoth.
Kay-Tu processes the information with what looks like a frown on him, but says nothing.
The news of Princess Leia and Han Solo's nuptials spreads faster than infection on the rebel base. Jyn feels sorry for Leia who has to smile and shake hands with half of the military staff, her belly starting to show, while Han saunters around, all too smug and proud of himself.
She almost chokes on her caf when she sees Cassian shake hands with Han, a genuine smile on his face. Jyn's pretty sure she's never seen the two interact without ending up scowling at each other; at this point, she wouldn't be surprised if Cassian kept tabs on Han the same way Kay-Tu does, marking every time Leia threatens to court-martial him for being an asshole down on a calendar.
She looks over at Bodhi, who just shrugs. Baze mumbles something about some guy talk, says it's about time her men start getting along. Chirrut grins, like he always does, all knowingly and smug in his own way.
Only Kay-Tu shows the same confusion she feels.
Jyn's not sure how she feels about that.
She's kissing down Cassian's neck, her knees braced around his hips, ever mindful of his healing injury, when Cassian says, "So, uh, what's the deal with Han Solo ordering me not to ask you to marry me?"
Jyn all but groans against his skin, her hands stilling at the waistband of his cargo pants. "You really want to talk about Han Solo right now?" she asks, her eyes going wide in a manner she knows resembles her superior.
Cassian chuckles, low, before he locks his hand up to cup her cheek, slides his fingers into her hair and kisses her. He's not strong enough to press her into the mattress, but he loops his free arm around her and pulls her closer to him, savors the feel of her body against his, warm and pliant and real.
They don't really get the opportunity to talk for the rest of the night.
"So how's the married life?"
Han gives her his best scowl, but it doesn't manage to hide the very smug, very happy grin underneath. At all. "Leia threatened to court-martial me for not getting this baby out," he laughs, spanning his hands around an imaginary big belly. "I asked Luke if the Force had any advice. She threw a book at me. Good times."
Jyn rolls her eyes. "Can she even do that?" she asks. "I mean, she's a Senator, could she really court-martial you like that?"
Han's brow furrows, and he rubs his chin between two fingers. "Her Worshipfullness can do just about anything she wants, can't she?" he teases, good-natured. "Though I would argue it'd put a serious damper on our relationship."
"Why, you don't want to tell Baby Solo that their daddy was in a cell the day they were born because he'd been an asshole to their mommy?" Jyn snorts, mischievous, before she adds a sugary "Sir" at Han's growing scowl.
"It's Heir of House Organa for you, Erso," Han snaps. Then, looking over the mess hall and spotting Cassian, he softens. "How are things going with Andor?"
Jyn follows his gaze, tucks a stray curl behind her ear - against the palm of her hand she can feel the smile stretching the skin around the corner of her lips. "We're on Day 183 of Cassian not asking me to marry him," she says, revels in the ridiculousness of knowing such things - there used to be a time when they'd count the days between two kills. They have all the time in the world now. "Things are good."
the end