Jyn knew, of course, on some innate level, that he trusted her. Not just that he'd grown to do so in the time they once spent together here, but that it must have happened sooner than that. Before they left on the first part of their mission, she'd called him on it — that he would need to trust her if she was expected to trust him — and then by the time they wound up in the middle of a firefight not terribly long later, she thought something of the sort had to have grown between them, never mind by the end, on Scarif. All the same, hearing him say that now, so casually, someone I trust, made her chest ache and a warm feeling come over her.

"You might not be saying the same once you've tried my cooking," she joked, a lighter, easier joke than the other one she was tempted to make: that she wasn't sure if she could really be described as stable. She knew perfectly well what he meant, but she'd felt nothing but off-kilter since she first laid eyes on him. As for her culinary skills or lack thereof, it was something of an exaggeration. True, they were far from noteworthy, but not even she could ruin instant noodles.

To that end, she turned off the burner on the stove and poured everything — noodles, broth from a packet of powder, an egg stirred in — into a bowl. She didn't know why she was nervous, of all things. She'd put it down to her entire emotional state being a wreck. "All right, here. Sorry, I know it's not much."