He did not see her hand, but part of him sensed it, with perception long honed by more violent altercations than this. He was grateful, though part of him sneakily lamented that he could not have appreciated the casual touch.

No more, he told himself. It's not casual if you're craving it, and you craving it is wrong.

"Stranded," he repeated, almost under his breath. Yesterday, the day before, he would have shot back that she was free to leave any time. Now, he did not feel like it. But he did not know what to say instead. He'd spoken more yesterday than he had in years. It was both exhausting, and exhilarating. "Have you ever caught a fish?"

She'd grown up on Jakku. Of course she hadn't.