[Rey tenses. She had thought that maybe getting him to say her name would improve things, but no, she still hates having him talk to her. In fact, it might even be worse. When he called her "scavenger," they both knew they were enemies, while addressing her as "Rey" makes it seem like they're friends. They're not. They're about as far away from friends as people can be without actively wishing each other dead.
Rey doesn't usually hold grudges. Just about everyone on Jakku was pretty terrible, so the only way to get by was to swallow your pride and put up with people you can't stand. But Kylo is a special case. Not because what he did to her was especially terrible (though it was), not because he's a cold-blooded murderous tyrant with a god-complex and the petulance of a four year old child. It's because no one else is mad at him.
Though no one is actively pressuring her to forgive him, Rey still feels it. Every time they're nice to him, she feels the silent rebuke: We've let it go. Why can't you? She resents the implication that she should get over it, so instead she clings even tighter to her anger and her pain. They'r hers, to work through at her own pace and in her own space.]
What do you want?
[She stays inside the vent she's working on, legs dangling out; in a weird way, this is her one concession to the cult of forgiveness permeating the ship. This is a vulnerable position to be in if he chose to attack her, a sign of trust that she doesn't feel. She clings to her giant wrench and the knowledge that she can do some serious damage to him if he steps out of line.]
not at all okay no denied /lying
Rey doesn't usually hold grudges. Just about everyone on Jakku was pretty terrible, so the only way to get by was to swallow your pride and put up with people you can't stand. But Kylo is a special case. Not because what he did to her was especially terrible (though it was), not because he's a cold-blooded murderous tyrant with a god-complex and the petulance of a four year old child. It's because no one else is mad at him.
Though no one is actively pressuring her to forgive him, Rey still feels it. Every time they're nice to him, she feels the silent rebuke: We've let it go. Why can't you? She resents the implication that she should get over it, so instead she clings even tighter to her anger and her pain. They'r hers, to work through at her own pace and in her own space.]
What do you want?
[She stays inside the vent she's working on, legs dangling out; in a weird way, this is her one concession to the cult of forgiveness permeating the ship. This is a vulnerable position to be in if he chose to attack her, a sign of trust that she doesn't feel. She clings to her giant wrench and the knowledge that she can do some serious damage to him if he steps out of line.]