Cassian freezes when she grabs his wrist. It's tight and strong and he knows he could probably pull out of it if he fought her, but the words that follow keep him trapped in place even more than her grip.

His gaze is locked onto her face, and every part of him wants to tell her to stop, but he's drawn in anyway as she goes on. It's lucky, he thinks, that he'd already turned himself off because otherwise it would probably rip his chest open.

She can't want him. He wants her to want him, because there's always been a part of him that's missed her and wanted her back so badly. When she lets him go, his feet carry him backwards a few steps, and the only sign of emotion on his face is the crease of his eyebrows and lost unhappy frown.

He doesn't know what to say. He closes his eyes again and tries to pretend they're the only ones on the ship. It's too much to process and Eadu awaits them; maybe it's cowardly, but he doesn't say anything at all. He just takes another few steps backwards and makes a beeline for the cockpit, ignoring the (supposedly) subtle stares everyone gives him as he goes.