For a long, quiet moment, all she did was blink at him — no answer, just her muted surprise and the sound of their professor snoring in the background. It was as if she wasn't sure whether he was joking or not — giving her the run around, maybe, a bit of tit for tat. But there was something earnest in his voice. And he'd always been the sentimental type —

It shouldn't really matter if it's a joke or not. Because they're best friends — they can joke about these things if they want, and it doesn't bother her because her feelings aren't that complicated. That's what she tells herself. And yet, she breaks eye contact, looking down instead at her parchment and the line of misshapen penises she's drawn to amuse herself.

"Ha fucking ha, Dameron," she responds with a little bit of a face, "You almost sound like you're asking me to be your girlfriend."

Her, foul-mouthed and wild-haired, flighty and mean, always looking for a fight...