Luke threw her a look as she insisted on his now being handsome--he'd never been that much of a looker, in his estimation, and even without a mirror he was certain being an old hermit had not improved anything. But he passed over it, for now, because it made him feel warm inside in a way he hadn't in, oh... Well, long enough that it shouldn't be compared to Rey's own age, for example.

"None of us were ever much good at that," he said softly. "Family, I mean. Oh, we all tried, in our ways. Perhaps our curse is that we try too hard." He forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood again. He wanted to know how Han had died, wanted to know if it had been, in some way, worth it.

But not yet.

"I'm glad he met you," he said instead. "I'm glad you were there, to give him hope. I'm sure you did. I'm sure he was glad to have known you."