Rather than going for more booze, Rey slides her arms over the bar counter, crossing them idly, her posture more indolent than usual. Even she can't discern whether it's the alcohol or the subject matter that's gotten to her.

Shaking her head, her eyes shift back to focus on the line of shotglasses in front of her, still not going for another one. Finding the right words to explain any of what ails her is easier said than done, when Rey doesn't entirely understand any of it herself. She'd never even had the chance to confide in her own brother about any of it. How would she have been able to start that conversation, anyway? It just makes this all the more awkward.

"There's nothing wrong with you talking about Ennis, promise. It's actually nice, hearing the way you talk about her." She shifts her forearm to place a finger over the brim of an empty shotglass, tilting it idly. "It sounds nice."

The thought of someone ever talking about her the same way, or her ever finding the words to illustrate such an alien emotion, seemed like such an incongruous concept to her years ago. But between her return home and feeling the things Firo has felt about this woman he clearly loves--

"I've just been confused," she finally explains... sort of.