( He can relate: with a marginal amount of distance between them, his mind feels a little clearer, his thoughts a little easier to come by. The abrupt chill at his back where her body had acted as a buffer makes him sit a bit taller, his fingers flexing and curling into a fist where it hangs between his splayed knees. His other hand curves over his own thigh, kept resolutely to himself. Like her, a part of him misses the contact almost immediately, but there really is no denying how much easier it is for him to form a coherent thought when she isn't touching him in some way. )

You tell me. ( His tone sharp, Kylo leans slightly away from her so that he can more clearly look at her. ) Unless Leia Organa really does think that your efforts are better spent scouring the galaxy for pieces of a religion that hasn't exactly done her any favors in the last thirty years. ( He wouldn't put it past her, given her insatiable need to maintain control and achieve some semblance of victory at every opportunity. Rey, just another cog in a wheel that has been turning since long before either of them were born, another pawn in a game that has completely gone off the rails. ) Then again, if your obligations were actually getting you nowhere, I think our situation might look a little different.

( They might not be sitting this way, for starters, there and not-there, on two sides of one long line. )