Jyn wants to tell him that Saw hadn't always been the man they saw at the end on Jedha, with more pieces of him missing than not and falling apart under the weight of his own paranoia, but she bites the words back. Defending Saw Gerrera isn't a hobby of hers, least of all since he cut her loose, and while maybe their last meeting rekindled some of the affection she once felt for him — or, at least, put out some of the resentful fire — that doesn't mean she's about to take up his cause again, start speaking like she's one of his soldiers. Cassian isn't wrong, anyway. Even before Saw was the sad, worn-down man she'd seen and pitied what must have been only a matter of days ago, he was never exactly trusting.

He'd trusted her, though, she thinks. All these years later, and he said she'd been the best soldier he had, and she never knew him to be one to throw around hollow untruths. If anything, he was more of a father to her than Galen Erso ever was, but that, she keeps carefully guarded, close to her chest, not in the habit of giving away more of herself than is strictly necessary. Just being here in Cassian's arms breaks that rule; it's all the more reason why she needs to continue following it where she can.

She thinks again that Saw would be so, so disappointed in her for all of this, maybe even more so than he must have been when she collapsed watching the hologram, for all that she barely remembers doing so now.

"No, he didn't," she allows, smiling faintly at the thought as if recalling a rare fond memory, turning her head enough that the expression is hidden in Cassian's shoulder. "But especially not anything that seemed like it might be a good thing. There's always a catch." The same must be true of this, being here. She won't let herself believe otherwise. She can, though, let herself put off dealing with it for a little while longer.