Jyn hasn't worn a bra outside of combat since 1915 -- and considering they were patented in 1914, that speaks to her utter stubbornness in the face of societal pressure -- so when Cassin sweeps her shirt off, that is all there is to take off. Not even travel will convince her to wear a bra, especially now that it is so comfortable.

"Good thing we live so far from town," she murmurs, pushing him back and down so she can clamber into his lap and lean down to kiss him. Her fingers brush against his cheek, slide up into his soft hair, for a moment she is lost in looking at him, soaking up the moment to hold on to a hundred years from now. She doesn't remember every moment, there have simply been too many over the centuries, but she remembers every reunion, even when they weren't together. There has always been some invisible string pulling them together, dragging them together when they'd run away from each other once more, and she feels it let go when she is finally in Cassian's arms again. Like some tension has broken, some well has overflowed, some stupid girl has finally come home.

"I love you." It bears repeating, no matter how many times she has said it now. It will never been enough for how he makes her feel.