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[unjedi]

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[unjedi]

[ hugging is not something she does regularly, but she leans against him, shoulders bumping close. ]

[whisted]

[Close enough. It feels like it's helping.]

We'll manage.

[unjedi]

Will we?

[ will she? ]

[whisted]

I doubt it will be entirely pleasant or that we won't be rather worse for the wear in the end.

[Listen, natural pessimism is what it is. And yet.]

But we will.

[unjedi]

You sound very certain.

[ which is very unlike him. ]

[whisted]

[Someday, someone will teach him "fake it 'til you make it" but until that day,]

A bit.

[unjedi]

Good.

Sometimes it'll take you far.

[whisted]

And you, surely.

[unjedi]

A lot further than I expected.

[whisted]

...hm.

[There's a balance to strike between genuinely wanting to see a loved one succeed and heaping immense unnecessary pressure on them. He knows because Jim Kirk told him so.

He's not perfect at it yet, but hopefully a supportive squeeze conveys what he means.]

[unjedi]

[ they never needed words as much. for which, she is grateful. all the people she would have spoken her mind too . . . they're all gone. thus, to share still feels fragile. fraught.

so she just shoots him a smile. ]