He covered his face with one hand, scrubbed his eyes, and raised them more clearly to her.

He didn't matter. What mattered was—

"Are you all right?" Fast but with more grace than he'd left it, Cassian knelt back on the bed and touched her ribs and face, as if searching her for wounds. No; no smoking blasterburn, no bruise.

His touch as ever was so, so gentle on her, but there was still a wildness in his eyes—along with tears.