If this was another dream, it was one from which she didn't want to wake. Jyn felt too good for that, safe and content there in his arms; she wanted it to last just a little while longer, enough to give her something to hold onto. Dreams like this tended to be worse than any nightmares. Those, she was used to, having had them for most of her life. The good dreams, the ones she wanted to hold onto, were the ones that left her most rattled. Even with the high likelihood that she would regret it, though, she wasn't ready to move yet, wanting just for a little while longer to remember what this felt like.

"Feels good," she mumbled into his shoulder, not wholly aware of doing so. She couldn't even be sure exactly what she was referring to. It seemed instead to encompass the entire drawn-out moment. Usually, the best — and thus worst — of her dreams weren't this detailed or vivid. Was he real? She thought he was, hoped he was. There was that word again, still inextricably bound to him.