At Greta's assessment of fraught, in spite of, well, everything, Jyn laughed outright, a short, sharp sound. Just that brought with it a slight sense of relief, as did the solid slap of dough against counter that followed a moment later as she got warmth worked into it. This really was the right idea. It was all this tension that needed somewhere to go, that had become nearly unbearable, and that she was finding an outlet for now. The rest of what Greta said helped, too. It wasn't quite as applicable to her own situation, but she knew that Greta meant it, that if she had felt less than thankful, this would be a good place to let that frustration out, too.

She was thankful, though. Impossibly, indescribably thankful, perhaps the one thing she could be certain of under the accompanying tangled mess of emotions. Cassian was here, which meant he was alive, and that could only be a good thing. Selfish as she might have been, that was one way in which she could set all of her own feelings aside. She would rather deal with all of those confusing, conflicting feelings stirred up by his arrival than deal with the simpler but more oppressive grief that had accompanied his absence, anyway.

"It's a good thing, at least," she said. "His being here, I mean. Better than what was left for him back where we're from." Which, of course, was nothing. "But..." She frowned in concentration, trying to find the words for what was in her head. "It's confusing. Being around him. Having to remember that what I lived here, he didn't. Wanting something. Wanting not to want it." The problem, the whole crux of the issue, was that she was still in love with him, had never stopped being, no matter how hard she tried to bury it. She thought she'd done so well enough, but it all came unearthed again the second she saw him walking up to the ship, undeniable.