[ It would be easy to tease her about the rise of colour to her cheeks but she says something else that gives him pause, sincerity peeking through the persona of the smooth-talking mechanic he'd donned. The slight lift of his lips fall into something more sincere. ]

I would never assume that. I'm sorry if it came across that way.

[ And that is perhaps one of the truest things he's said to her thus far. Or the truest depending on how short this interaction goes. The women in his life have imprinted on him, are woven into his bones like a tapestry. They come from all walks of life but that doesn't make them any less stronger, any less resilient than the last. The things he does for the rebellion, the places it takes him, they all cling to him like ghosts, reminding him of what he's come from. Who he's fighting for.

And if he's trying not to be so sentimental about it - in his line of work, he can't underestimate anyone. ]

Let's your use tools then. [ He sets to work then, propping the box open on the floor to take a look at its contents. ] Tell me what you know about the tools in here.