Aiden took the bottle with a small nod of thanks, condensation cool against his palm. The scent of the grilled fish lingered on the air, almost mocking in its simplicity life pushing forward while rubble still smoldered a few streets away. He let out a long breath, looking over the supports that Pelie had settled into place with careful precision.
"You're doing well," he said quietly, glancing at her arm, then her leg, both still stiff from healing.
"Better than most would in your condition. The fact you're here, helping, speaks for itself."
He sipped the water before answering her earlier remark.
"Breaks come when the work allows them. Right now, people still need hands. Jedi or not, I don't like leaving them to it alone." His tone wasn't harsh, only steady, worn by the same fatigue that pulled at the lines around his eyes.
Her words about the cause of all this greed, hunger for power stirred a bitter truth he kept pressed down. He stared at the half-collapsed wall across from them, jagged stone and splintered wood like broken bones.
"Artifacts," he echoed softly.
"Trinkets in the wrong hands. But to them, it's never about what's lost. Only what's taken."
He turned back to her at last, offering a faint but genuine smile.
"Pelie," he repeated, as if trying her name out.
"I'm Aiden." His gaze lingered a moment, weighing the strength it took for her to stand beside him despite her injuries.
"It's good to have another here who refuses to let destruction be the last word."
Pelie besk
