Jyn listened as raptly as she had to anything else he'd told her, the same bittersweet, fond look on her face for the assortment of conflicting thoughts in her head. First, that she was, as she'd said before, so unbelievably glad that he'd had someone like that in his life, even if the circumstances that brought the connection into being were complicated to say the least. Second, perhaps nonsensically, that she wished she could've met this woman who'd raised Cassian like her own, absently wondering how that might have played out. And third, more spiteful, that she wished she could've had a mother like that.

For so long, she'd held the memory of Lyra as something like sacred in her mind, maybe because of the last words said to her or the way she then watched her mother die, maybe because her anger at her father was too big for there to be room for much else. That had since changed, leaving her to wonder now what the point of any of it was, or how different her life might have been if Lyra had made a different choice that day.

Right now, none of that was the point. "She sounds wonderful," she murmured over the sound of the falls, meaning it entirely. Thoughtful for a moment, she weighed her words, debating whether or not what came to mind would be too much. Then she decided to hell with it. "Back on Scarif, you... you said that my father would be proud of me," she said, and reached over to slip her hand into his. "I think your mother would be proud of you, Cassian."