Part of Rey would love to talk about Han. She'd built up such an elaborate image of him in her mind, and she wanted to know how much of it was true. He hadn't been perfect, she knew that much. But he'd very obviously loved his son, even if it seemed like he didn't know how. She would have given anything to have a father who looked at her the way Han had looked at Kylo, and she would have cherished him for as long as she could rather than unceremoniously end his life.

But now wasn't the time. As difficult as it was to sort through all her emotions after a lifetime of not having a wide array of them to begin with, she had to focus on her mission. And her mission wasn't to wallow in self-pity or learn the ways of the Jedi or even to make friends with Luke; she was only supposed to get him to come back with her so he could offer a much needed spark of hope to the Resistance.

"So... when you said the galaxy didn't need Luke Skywalker, were you mistaken or lying?" It was a cheeky sort of comment, though she was too busy sorting through her own feelings to give her words much more than a sad sort of humor.