[Abruptly, he stops trying to do anything when the door hisses open, meeting her stare with a glare until she starts to circle him. Gradually, his anger melts to confusion. He is the one strapped to a chair, so why is she treating him like a bomb that is about to go off?]
Well? You look like you bet on the wrong fathier.
[He hasn’t had much time to prepare but there is conviction in his voice. He might not be with the Resistance officially, but he is not about to give her his mother. He’d sooner break his own wrists to get free than betray her to the First Order.
There is something else too. He can’t pick up on the nuances of the emotion, but doubt permeates her. So he tries to latch onto it]
no subject
Well? You look like you bet on the wrong fathier.
[He hasn’t had much time to prepare but there is conviction in his voice. He might not be with the Resistance officially, but he is not about to give her his mother. He’d sooner break his own wrists to get free than betray her to the First Order.
There is something else too. He can’t pick up on the nuances of the emotion, but doubt permeates her. So he tries to latch onto it]
Look...you don’t have to do this.