He lets her guide him back towards the toilet, and he has to admit there's a comfort in sitting. He hasn't in hours, not since he left work. "They're not. They are not clean."

Rey hits her hand against the tub with a shrill shriek of victory from the thudding sound it makes, and Cassian flinches again. He's killed people before, in much worse ways, in much worse circumstances, but he's never come home to a family right after. It's making it impossible to feel normal, to block off that part of him like he used to.

He looks back down at his hands, and by now they've started shaking a little. "They are not clean. I can't get them clean." It's more metaphorical than physical at this point, clearly, but the overwhelming dread can't be washed out of his stomach like he can wash out his hands.