Rey tells him once - cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but a look in her eyes of absolute trust - about the things she collected and kept while she lived alone on Jakku. The doll she made out of bits of coarse twine and scraps of orange fabric. The rebel helmet she found once in a wreck. Things she didn't need, couldn't trade for anything because they were really worthless, but could never bring herself to toss away.
"You had a doll," says Finn, grinning. The idea charms him - and makes him inexpressibly sad. He wishes he could reach backward through time, to give the younger Rey a hug. She would probably have hit him with her staff.
She looks as if she sort of wants to hit him right now. "Don't make fun," she says, her eyes turning stormy. "It's not like I played with it. Those things were all I had. Everything else got traded or used until it fell apart."
"I wasn't making fun," Finn assures her, reaching for her hand. "I think it's sweet." She still looks murderous, and maybe a little betrayed, which is something he just can't stand."And it would've been okay if you'd played with it. I mean, you were a kid. I'm sorry you didn't get to actually be one."
Watching her eyes is like watching a lake reveal its depths: the clouds part, and there's a wealth of green and brown and gold, shining just out of reach. "Me too," she says, laying her free hand on top of his. "I'm sorry you didn't get to either."
"Imagine if we'd known each other as kids."
"We would've gotten into so much trouble."
"It would've been amazing."
They smile at each other, harmony restored. Though Finn actually can't imagine them playing together as children because he doesn't know how children are supposed to play. He grew up in the stormtrooper training program, where every waking hour was regimented, every activity closely supervised. He supposes that some of his earliest combat simulations could be described as games, but they were designed to make him a better, more deadly soldier; they weren't intended to be fun. The closest thing he had to a toy was a blaster that fired pellets filled with harmless dye.
Sensing the shift in his mood, Rey presses his hand and leans up to kiss his forehead. She doesn't say anything. She doesn't need to.