Lark is good at reading people. But part of that is because he can confirm what he sees with things they can't hide: the smell of the salt from her tears, the faint tang of her grief.

"I understand. Maybe better than you'd think," he says softly. He turns his attention briefly to the glass (or not glass? what do you use in a galaxy far, far away?) surrounding the cockpit. He first saw Star Wars when he was a child, back when it was still fresh in theaters, and even now being here is a rush. What he wouldn't have given to be here, back in middle school.

"I don't have family, either. And I'm one of very few people here who takes death seriously, even if it's temporary. But tell me what happened to Han? What does the Bull have against him?"