Some people would scoff that he had let his life be tied to the childhood daydream of a little girl, to a fairy tale.
He was a man brave enough to give up a job he had excelled at, thrived in; pride of place and respect that he had truly earned – all in order to protect his country.
To be an unusual hobbit is, in itself, to be worthy of comment.
“Some of us – ”
“Most of us – ”
“We’ve all done terrible things on behalf of the Rebellion.”
He pledges himself to her in words that make her chin tremble beneath her smile, that make her throat tight and her heart swell too big to fit under her ribs as tears slide down her cheeks.
Jyn firmly believes in greeting new people by shaking their hands instead of taking a bottle of Jim Beam from them in front of a little girl, but alas, you can’t have everything.
“Transmitting,” the pleasant mechanical voice announced. “Transmitting.”
Breathing. Just breathing.
She put him at about thirty, maybe thirty-two. Too old to be young but too young to have the lines that he did around his eyes and mouth.