He isn't wrong. As a child, still reeling from the loss of her parents, she'd burned with pride over the fact of that, that no matter how hard he pushed her, he felt an affection for her that he didn't for the others, protected her even while throwing her out into the midst of danger. Of course, she hadn't known then how short-lived that would be. No matter how much he might have cared for her, it wasn't enough to stop him from cutting her loose without any sort of an explanation. And maybe, deep down, she knows that the reason he gave for it when she finally saw him again was a good one, but that doesn't change the past or how abandoned she's spent all these years feeling.
"He raised me," she says with a shrug, as if it's as simple as that, as if there weren't plenty of others her own age or close to it among his cadre. Still, it's a far cry from the last time she said those words, a defense to what might as well have been his accusation regarding her connection to Saw. So much has changed, she thinks, in such a short time. Certainly, when she first met Cassian, she could never have imagined that she would be climbing into his bed in the middle of the night the way she has, or that she would take such comfort from his presence.
With that in mind, she supposes she can add just a little more than she did then, surrounded by people she had no reason to trust. She has one — several, really — now with him. "Saw's the one who got us off Coruscant when I was young. Then he came for me when my parents... after I lost them." It's still just facts, none of the feelings, and it still doesn't touch on how much she'd come to see him as a father or the way he abandoned her, but it's more than she's told anyone in a long time, maybe ever. Lying in the dark like this, it's easier than it might otherwise be, especially when it's in lieu of speaking about more painful truths, like her dream or what happened to them. Being swallowed by the Death Star's blast again seems safer than talking about it. Besides, there's a strange satisfaction in the idea of telling Cassian something he doesn't already know, details about her that the Alliance might not have learned, a way of regaining the upper hand even this long after the fact.
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"He raised me," she says with a shrug, as if it's as simple as that, as if there weren't plenty of others her own age or close to it among his cadre. Still, it's a far cry from the last time she said those words, a defense to what might as well have been his accusation regarding her connection to Saw. So much has changed, she thinks, in such a short time. Certainly, when she first met Cassian, she could never have imagined that she would be climbing into his bed in the middle of the night the way she has, or that she would take such comfort from his presence.
With that in mind, she supposes she can add just a little more than she did then, surrounded by people she had no reason to trust. She has one — several, really — now with him. "Saw's the one who got us off Coruscant when I was young. Then he came for me when my parents... after I lost them." It's still just facts, none of the feelings, and it still doesn't touch on how much she'd come to see him as a father or the way he abandoned her, but it's more than she's told anyone in a long time, maybe ever. Lying in the dark like this, it's easier than it might otherwise be, especially when it's in lieu of speaking about more painful truths, like her dream or what happened to them. Being swallowed by the Death Star's blast again seems safer than talking about it. Besides, there's a strange satisfaction in the idea of telling Cassian something he doesn't already know, details about her that the Alliance might not have learned, a way of regaining the upper hand even this long after the fact.