Poe's words are heavy. Sharp. The longer they sit, the worse it is. It doesn't feel like it should have come to this.
Nothing about this day makes any sense anymore.
"We're in this together. All of us. We're a team."
Finn's lost count of how many times he's said it here, whether as an affirmation or an invitation to someone else. Because he's always just assumed it's true, because it's all of them, it's been nobody getting left behind. Nobody needing to be alone. Finn glances towards Leia, briefly, including her in the sentiment, but he zeroes his focus in on Rey.
"No one on this team is collateral. You're not just something we can push in his direction because he might decide he wants to change after what he's done. You're not--"
Not disposable, he almost says, none of us are, we're not leverage to use. They know that, he knows they know that.
"If something goes wrong, it won't just be you that he wants to take it out on. It won't just be the people in this room, it'll be all of us. Everyone he's already hurt. Everyone on this team. Everyone in the Quarantine who matters to us."
People like Cisco and Karen and Taako, like Lucretia, like Chyler Silva, who's so young and so familiar and only just got here.
"And he won't stop there even if we get him to back off, Rey, because he's trapped with a city full of people who have nowhere else to run and no idea what he's capable of. Everything around him would be a target he goes for until he gets brought down."
That's what the First Order excels at. Making targets out of people who have no means to stop them. And who knows how long it would take to stop him here, who knows what he would take with him on the way down?
Finn cuts his gaze back and forth between Rey and Leia: settles on each of them for a moment, tries to figure out how to get them to understand, or maybe to be able to understand what they see. Because he really wishes he could understand right now.
"Don't do this. We don't have to do this."
It's not a choice that he can support making. It doesn't feel like a hope or a chance, it just-- it just feels like poor mathematics. It feels like something hollow.
no subject
Nothing about this day makes any sense anymore.
"We're in this together. All of us. We're a team."
Finn's lost count of how many times he's said it here, whether as an affirmation or an invitation to someone else. Because he's always just assumed it's true, because it's all of them, it's been nobody getting left behind. Nobody needing to be alone. Finn glances towards Leia, briefly, including her in the sentiment, but he zeroes his focus in on Rey.
"No one on this team is collateral. You're not just something we can push in his direction because he might decide he wants to change after what he's done. You're not--"
Not disposable, he almost says, none of us are, we're not leverage to use. They know that, he knows they know that.
"If something goes wrong, it won't just be you that he wants to take it out on. It won't just be the people in this room, it'll be all of us. Everyone he's already hurt. Everyone on this team. Everyone in the Quarantine who matters to us."
People like Cisco and Karen and Taako, like Lucretia, like Chyler Silva, who's so young and so familiar and only just got here.
"And he won't stop there even if we get him to back off, Rey, because he's trapped with a city full of people who have nowhere else to run and no idea what he's capable of. Everything around him would be a target he goes for until he gets brought down."
That's what the First Order excels at. Making targets out of people who have no means to stop them. And who knows how long it would take to stop him here, who knows what he would take with him on the way down?
Finn cuts his gaze back and forth between Rey and Leia: settles on each of them for a moment, tries to figure out how to get them to understand, or maybe to be able to understand what they see. Because he really wishes he could understand right now.
"Don't do this. We don't have to do this."
It's not a choice that he can support making. It doesn't feel like a hope or a chance, it just-- it just feels like poor mathematics. It feels like something hollow.