Iris knows how accurately Cain can read her; what she doesn't know is how much he remembers about the galaxy her Skywalkers came from.

"Died, darling. Died and switched sides last minute and took the big bad right along with 'im. Except the Admiral caught 'im on the way out and 'e's come to the barge to 'elp put things right."

She rests her head on Cain's shoulder, snaking her arm up behind his back to feel the broad sweep of muscle there. She will leave, and they both know it; but the part she takes real joy in is knowing she doesn't have to. That there are no deadlines on this moment.

There are more words in her, but instead of saying any, she makes a contented noise against his skin. Life, in this time and space, is excellent.