Rather than stewing in prolonged quiet, searching for all of the right and eloquent words, they just spill out of her mouth instead, blurting: "That's the thing, I don't know what happened. It isn't like I've ever thought of her or anyone that way. Whether it's these memories I have or something else -- I just couldn't stop thinking about trying to make things right, but it never will be because I can't seem to do anything right, and after all those things I've done and the people I'd hurt and she's one of the ones I hurt the most."

Her jaw clenches, quietly shutting off her stream of consciousness before barely collecting herself again.

"Before she knew who I was, she helped me. I was a stranger and yet she was nice. I don't think I'd known anyone like that before I met her, and I... I think I really admired that. More so, even when she did know who I was and for some reason she didn't kill me in my sleep, though she honestly would've been justified in doing so. After all, I killed her wife."

Indirectly so, but Rey was still the cause of that death and it meant little difference either way. The cruel reality of it earns itself a single terse, joyless laugh.

"How fucked is that." Don't worry, Firo. It's a rhetorical question... statement. Thing.