"Kylo," she finally yields, saying the name carefully. It's rusty on her tongue. Foolishly she still thought of him as Ben. Over the years it, the jagged edges of his impossible offer wore down in favor of remembering the warmth of his hand pressed to hers and the soft whisper of her voice telling her she wasn't alone.

"I can help you," her offer is as genuine as it was in the turbo lift. "You don't need a master, you can just be--"