[ Paired with the question, she finds her gaze subconsciously drifting toward the slick leather of his gloves as they're pulled away to reveal pale skin. It all feels too eerily reminiscent for her to shake herself from wistful nostalgia — though that could just as likely be attributed to the Force's intervention, winding itself around them like a warm layer of protection. ]

Yes. [ On second thought: ] No. It's the same, but different.

[ She can sense what's amiss too acutely: the newness of the bricks, the color of the blanket hanging over the edge of the cot, the placement of the fire pit. It's the same, but it isn't, familiar and new all at once — not unlike their new beginning, whatever it might entail. ]

I didn't think they'd rebuild it. Not after Luke — [ Her speech halts, thinking better of it. That's a sore subject, and with all that's happened, it's best not to touch on it for now. ] It doesn't matter.

[ No amount of wrenching her fingers around the fabric will dry her shirt. She gives up on that as soon as she realizes it's a fruitless endeavor, and slips the bag off of her shoulder to hold it out toward him. ]

You'll want to change.

[ He doesn't look nearly as drenched as she does, but the point still stands. ]