From a logical standpoint, Jyn knows that he's right, of course. Excepting her time in various prisons, no one has ever forced her to do anything she didn't want to do, and she owes no debt to the man who abandoned her. He may have thought about her all those years, but he never tried to find her, never tried to send word. Of course she couldn't just welcome him back into her life as if that weren't the case. Of course no one in their right mind would be able to expect that from her.

She thinks about the way he looked at her, though, all emotion where she'd been carefully composed stoicism and falling apart inside, and she still feels like it's what's wanted of her, what she's supposed to do. She just doesn't know if she can do that.

"Thanks," she says quietly, more appreciative than that one word of gratitude would probably suggest and all the more self-conscious for it. "For saying that. For listening. There's not really anyone else I can go to about it."