Having a hangover from Hell couldn't begin to describe the throbbing in Rey's head. It was more along the lines of residing in purgatory in which she merely existed somewhere between the afterlife, and walking amongst the living on Earth.

After being numb from the pain the evening before there were only a few words that could properly describe the sensation of what one too many Long Islands were capable of accomplishing: they made you feel like shit!

Although, feeling like death warmed up and served on a silver platter for a party of one was also approaching closely in comparison. However, with the hurt all being the same she could have also been struck upside the head with a wooden baseball bat wrapped in barbed-wiring.

Scowling, Rey reproached the thought that she really needed to stop watching The Walking Dead with Finn and Hux. Comparing herself to the show's characters at the moment, specifically those with rotten flesh, only managed to stroke her gag reflexes at the worst of times.

When Rey opened her eyes, everything was a blurry orb of light. Straining to see through her narrowed eyelids she managed to dim the brightness. No thanks to the unpainted white walls, the rays from the eastern sun glared with a vibrant ferocity through her bedroom window.

Grimacing at the sensitivity, Rey turned from her side onto her stomach, burying her face into the cushiness of her pillow whilst pulling the quilt up and over her shoulders. She regarded the faint, proverbial fragrance of coconut from her shampoo that was lingering on her pillowcase with a soft inhale.

She was in her bed, in her bedroom.

Wait a fucking minute…

How in the hell did she get home from the bar? Did she attempt driving home, heavily under the influence? Or had she managed to withhold a reasonable amount of sensibility to find a designated driver?

Her mind was nothing but fuzzy on the details. The possibility of any truth lying behind her risking the attempt of driving herself home hadn't been entirely ruled out at this point; although, the thought of having to ponder such questions was too much of a task at the moment. Alas, Rey settled with the better thought of having drunk-dialed Finn or Hux.

Chalking off the fact that she had been able to take in the surroundings of her room, Rey concluded it to be her greatest accomplishment for the day after allowing her eyes to become accustomed to the brightness in the room. The daunting task of walking was surely about to become the new add-on bonus.

Rey slowly rose onto her hip, keeping a hand firmly planted into the mattress, she felt the hangover's remnants consume her like that she'd participated in a head-on collision course of sorts.

Her head was stuck in a slow spiraling motion, enhancing the aspects of her vertigo. The queasiness in the pit of her abdomen made Rey chide herself for deeming it wise to forego eating, and chose to consume an excessive amount of liquor on an empty stomach instead. The taste of stale alcohol lingering on her breath certainly wasn't helping the overall matter of her situation.

Clearly, drinking alone when miserable had not been the brightest of her bright ideas, regarding that she had been so determined in finding a way to numb any, and all emotions she never considered the corresponding consequences.

Moral of the story, Adams: never drink Long Islands alone – ever! Actually, just don't drink alone period.

Sighing heavily, Rey moved to an upright seated position with her legs crossed; resting her elbows on her knees she dug her palms into her eyelids. She welcomed the pressure as being a short relief from the dull pain behind her temples. If there was the slightest chance that her eyeballs would pop out of their sockets from the amount of pressure being applied to them, Rey wouldn't have been surprised.

She switched focus to her temples, massaging them in a circular motion with her fingertips whilst staring at an unspecified spot on the blank wall across from her. Rey cocked her head slightly with an anomalous look, perceiving the whitish partition as a blank canvas: a clean slate that was pleading to be colored with something new – something fresh.

A revitalized yearning to paint became the only thought that sparked the ashes of her desolation. The fresh ideas swarming in her thoughts only initiated her excitement to bring them to life on a real canvas. For so long she depicted the art to be an unwarranted reminder of what she had run from, and that her love for it had died along with the life of her fiancé among the other excuses that were rendered moot.

Today, that grim outlook over it was about to change.

Apparently hitting rock bottom had been what she needed to rearrange her life, and to obtain a clearer image of what she wanted to do next in this newfound journey. Considering Rey felt as if she'd figuratively hurled herself over the edge of a cliff and landed amongst a pile of boulders at some point in the night the metaphor was certainly fitting.

She made it a point to recover her paints and supplies from storage that day. Even if it meant taking her all afternoon to rummage through every single box labeled as JUNK to find what she needed: because she was a genius that found it easier at the time to label every geometric-shaped piece of cardboard as such.

That was also after the fact of crossing over the real hurdle for the day: peeling her hung over ass out of bed. Having a crane to assist herself with the task of swinging her legs over the bed's edge appeared to be an easier solution than having to count to ten before pushing herself away from the mattress, but Rey endured the struggle like a ninja – just less graceful.

A congratulatory pat on the back was more than needed after changing from the dark denim skinny jeans and her favorite t-shirt (featuring The Beatles) into more comfortable attire of pajama shorts that were navy blue with large, pink hydrangea blossoms, and a matching shade of pink on the waistband and around the trim hugging her thighs. She topped off the bum attire with her favorite Under Armor hoodie that was heather grey with pink lettering. All of which she had been able to do without falling on her face.

Focusing on walking with one bare foot in front of the other, Rey emerged from the confinement of her bedroom to the dwelling's main sitting area. Thinking that she had been the only one in the house, she was surprised to see Finn in the kitchen. And, judging by the sweet smell of cookie batter that blended in with the bitter aroma of coffee, he was clearly in a mood that called for a baking spree. She could already see a few batches of plain sugar cookies amongst the chocolate chip ones on the opposite counter from the sink.

Transferring the last fully-baked chocolate chip cookie from the baking sheet to a piece of parchment on the island countertop, Finn looked up at the sound of stool feet dragging with friction against the hardwood flooring.

"Good morning there, lush." Finn greeted in that of a facetious jab. "I'm surprised to see you mobile already, after the state that you were in last night."

Resting her elbows on the window's countertop and cradling her cheeks between her fists, Rey narrowed her eyes towards the tiny digital numbers on the stove that read 11:17. Acknowledging the hour with a groan, Rey folded her arms purposely on the counter top to rest her head upon them. "Thanks," she grumbled.

"Coffee's made if you want some. No offense, but you look like you need it."

"Since when do we own a coffee maker?" Rey asked, quirking a brow.

"Since I took it upon myself to go through the last number of gifts that you didn't want," Finn concurred with a toothy grin. He took her exaggerated eye roll as his queue to pour Rey a mug of hot caffeine from their newly acquired Keurig with a few drops of creamer, along with supplying a couple tablets of Aspirin.

Rey gave him weary appreciative smile, popping the more than needed hangover remedies into her mouth. She welcomed the heat of the brown liquid to wash them down with an internal satisfied sigh. Her hands remained clasped around the mug, savoring the heat that its content was exerting.

"Thanks for helping my sorry ass last night," Rey uttered softly.

Finn remained standing in front of her, leaning on his forearms with a look that she took as him wanting her to acknowledge something from the night before. Oblivious to what he was imploring, she brought the rim of her mug to her lips for another sip of its liquid content.

Finn chuckled. "Actually, that's the hilarious part: Solo brought you home."

Rey nearly spit the drink back into the mug at his words. Her muscles went stiff whilst staring back at Finn with pupils blown wide. "What?"

Finn nodded with a smirk. "Yep, he carried your drunk-ass in shortly after ten o'clock last night."

Rey scoffed as panic crawled into her chest. Her eyes flickered amongst the tiny grains of wood on the countertop, desperately picking through any competent sector of her brain as to why she was with Ben the night before. Unfortunately, she couldn't come up with a single memory other than she knew for a fact that Ben hadn't been with her at the time she ordered another Long Island – whenever that was.

Questions sparked their way throughout the nerve endings of her brain, but only proved to be fruitless to ponder: every query led directly to a dead-end answer. Her brain was hurting now more than ever.

Rey heaved a frustrated sigh. Closing her eyes, she hoped that she hadn't said (or done) anything that would've made her look like a major jackass in Ben's eyes. Not that she cared though, right? But the more she tried to make herself believe it the more her anxiety escalated. She made it a crucial priority to ask Ben about it later.

"What was up with that, anyways?" Finn remarked, breaking Rey from the quarrel in her thoughts as he made his way back to the large bowl on the counter by the stove that contained the remaining batch of cookie batter. "I don't think I've ever seen you get that drunk since I've known you."

Because my fiancé is a mendacious twat and made me do it, Rey wanted to say. Deciding to surpass the uncouth remark, she chewed her bottom lip to make up a more reasonable excuse rather than choosing to smear more mud over his late friend's image.

Rey considered the fact that Finn never went on excessive baking sprees unless something was troubling him. She couldn't bear the thought of burdening him with more poignant details of her estranged love life with his deceased childhood best friend.

"I just – it's been a chaotic couple of weeks, Finn. I needed a night to clear my head. But I'm better now." Rey assured with a (hopeful) convincing enough smile. "I promise. And, actually, I decided that I want to start painting again."

"For real?" Finn inquired with surprise, plopping a rounded form of cookie dough on the cooking sheet with the spoon in hand. "That's great!"

Rey nodded candidly. "I just need to get my supplies out of storage. Speaking of - I'm assuming my car is still uptown. Think you could give me a ride later?"

"Yeah, definitely no problem," Finn replied. "I told Hugs I'd be coming into work later anyways."

Rey gave him a soft contemplative look, tapping her index finger mindlessly against her mug. "How are you holding up with everything, Finn? I'm sorry for being so wrapped up in my own woes that I've neglected to ask how you've been through all of this. I feel like such a terrible friend."

"Nah, you of all people shouldn't feel sorry about anything." Finn added over his shoulder as he placed the sheet of raw dough balls into the oven. Setting the oven's timer for the suitable baking time, he turned back towards Rey and leaned the small of his back against the island counter's edge with arms crossed over his chest. "And for me –," he exerted a shrug, "- I'm alright, but I have my moments. I mean he was my best friend, you know? We've been inseparable since middle school, and he's just – it's weird having him gone."

Rey frowned and nodded, slowly. Her attention lowered to the mug that was cupped between her palms, and rubbed her thumbs in an up-and-downward motion over its current lukewarm surface. For the first time since Poe's death, she had no words to add for reassurance; too guilt-ridden of the fact that she couldn't help but feel like Poe had failed them all in some relatable aspect.

Not only had Poe failed Rey in being a faithful partner, but he'd also failed his roommates and co-workers as a friend. For being so called 'best friends' for years, it was obvious that neither one of them knew of the surreptitious life that their friend had been leading. She wasn't sure which was more disheartening to think about.

"Actually, Rey…" Finn started with knitted brows, "I talked to Hux the other night about doing some sort of memorial shrine outside the bait shop with a garden. Maybe do a possible eulogy to him at the one year anniversary mark. Since you mentioned that you're planning on starting your art up again – what do you think about doing a painting or something for it?"

Rey took a breath as her lips went slightly ajar. She considered telling him no until the hopeful expression on Finn's face brought about a change in mind frame. She knew how much it would mean to him – and to Hux. Poe had also been deemed a friend amongst frequent inhabitants in town that visited the bait shop on a regular basis.

Baring all of that in mind, Rey couldn't bring herself to let them down any more than what their friend had already done. Finn and Hux had always been there for her when she needed them to be, indisputably. She could definitely manage doing this one thing that they were asking of her to do for them.

"Sure," Rey affirmed with a confident smile. "I'll think of something."

Finn's smile beamed. "I knew Poe loved you for a reason. You're the best."

Rey tried to smile at the notion, but – did Poe actually love her? Or had it been more of him being in love with the idea of her and him, together?

Any other average person with a normal life never would've had the need to consider the latter after having lost their loved one, but Rey's life had always been everything other than ordinary. She decided to save the thought for another day.

After finishing up her coffee and feeling her humanity ensue past the horrendous hangover, Rey joined Finn in the kitchen to finish up his baking spree. She stole a few chunks of dough with extra chocolate chips when Finn hadn't been looking, smiling deviously that he always failed to notice.

While Finn took out the last batch of cookies from the oven, Rey helped with clean-up before declaring that she was officially more than overdue for a shower at that point. It was nearly approaching 12:30 in the afternoon and they both still had plans for the remainder of the day.

"Good," Finn said with a straight face. "I've been trying to hold back from saying this – and I mean this in the nicest way possible because you're my friend - but you smell like you just crawled out of the dumpster in the bar's alleyway."

Rey stuck her tongue out at him, wholly aware and not caring that she looked like a five-year-old in the process.


Reacquainting herself with the paintbrush held loosely in her grasp was like meeting up with a life-long friend after having lost contact over the years. However, in her case it had been no longer than six months at most.

Straightening her back on the stool with the arches of her bare feet propped on the rims of the stool's legs underneath her, Rey contemplated the subtle blends in gentle hues of blues, pinks, and grey that served as the background on her 16"x20"canvas that was propped on the easel.

Cocking her head slightly, Rey pressed her lips and turned her mouth askew, silently debating over where she wanted to add a little more color to balance out the image.

"Just a little more white should do the trick." Rey mumbled out loud even though she was the only one occupying the house's porch.

She proceeded to do just that, taking a little extra white paint onto the brush's bristles and dabbing them lightly over the center of the canvas where she concluded the light source should come from.

Not long after obtaining her paints and other accessories from storage, Rey couldn't wait to dive headfirst into the new project. The image she wound up choosing was a limb of cherry blossoms that she found in Google images, wanting something simple that would serve in refreshing her skills.

After reading the subtext underneath the image, Rey discovered that cherry blossoms were also said to represent the life's fragility and the beauty within it: a sheer reminder that nothing is ever permanent no matter how beautiful and perfect it may seem.

How fitting.

Not only did Rey choose them for the fact that she'd never gotten to see such delicate blooms in nature, but the symbolism behind them managed to capture Rey's heart, acknowledging them as being significant to this new chapter of her life.

Rummaging through the drawers of her bureau when she got home, Rey searched for proper attire that she didn't mind getting a splash or two of paint on. She settled on a pair of overalls that she snagged for a couple bucks from Goodwill a few years ago, being two sizes too big and baggy for her lean figure they nearly engulfed her hips and legs. She found an old, grungy cut-off tee buried under the shirts that she slept in to throw on underneath the denim set.

She rolled the bottom leg hems of the overalls up so that they came just above her ankles, and threw her hair up into a messy bun in which left a few stray hairs hang loose around her face. With a contented hum and a quick look in the mirror for no reason whatsoever, Rey set up her temporary make-do art studio on the porch next to the hammock.

She took a needed glance down at her phone where the chosen image of cherry blossoms was displayed on screen for reference. Choosing to start on the limb and branches next, she just started gathering up the colors to blend the desired shade of brown before the sound of tires rolling over gravel on their driveway shifted her attention. Glancing around the side of her easel, she stretched her neck just enough to see who was coming from over the porch's stone railing.

Her chest did a weird flutter when she saw Ben appear while ascending the stairs, carrying what Rey presumed to be a large camera bag with the padded-strap clinging to his shoulder and his hand grasping the handle for good measure. She assured herself that the fluttering in her stomach was only nerves, but the trivial smile on her face said otherwise.

Ben slowed in his stride upon reaching the top step, not expecting to see Rey emerge from the hiding spot behind the easel as his mind had been heavily scourged with other thoughts that day to have noticed her.

"Hey," Rey stated softly.

Ben gave her a tentative smirk, fearing that she'd remember her antics from the night before. If Rey had been keen on anything significant in remembrance, the blithe expression on her face didn't show any hint regarding it.

"Hey," he finally managed to say, mirroring her tone.

An awkward silence hung in the air: something that seemed to happen every time they would first meet as one of them always worried if the words they wanted to say would be wrong to express.

As Ben approached her, his eyes immediately began taking in every aspect of Rey's attire. Begrudgingly, there was nothing that managed to rile him up more and make his cock twitch than seeing her forego the trendy apparel for haphazard garb that usually no woman in their right mind would dare to let a man see them in.

But Rey wasn't like the other women that he knew, and that waswhat he admired about her the most. Moments like this always made Ben detach from any reasonable sense of competency as he became completely awestruck with her presence. Minutes later he would discover that he'd been gaping starry-eyed at her, and would forcibly real himself back to reality.

He became captivated with how the gentle breeze captured the tiny wisps of hair hanging freely from her messy hairdo, and how naturally more beautiful she was without make-up to hide her freckles. His eyes trailed further to where the straps on the overalls remained subtly snug against her breasts due to the way she was sitting, exposing the knoll of their outer curvature that remained concealed underneath her white shirt. The excessive slack of her denim attire at her waist and the cut-off shirt underneath gave him the slightest peek of her sun-kissed skin along her sides, and just a sheer glimpse of the taut muscles of her stomach.

And, God damnit! If this wasn't Rey trying to not turn him on then, she had most certainly failed – miserably. If she were any other woman Ben would've already had her thrown over his shoulder, and on his way to fuck her senseless.

Jesus Christ, Solo, you really are pathetic.

After a prolonged moment of silence, Rey went to speak; breaking the unwarranted tranquility at the same time Ben inadvertently chose to talk as well. They both regarded the other and laughed nervously, like they had read the other's mind and had the same thought.

"You first," Ben said with a reassuring nod towards her.

Rey took a breath whilst fidgeting with the brush in hand. Worrying her bottom lip, she glanced down to make sure her hands weren't showing just how nervous she was about the topic she was attempting to broach.

"I just wanted to say thank you for being there last night," she stated sincerely. "I don't remember how it ended being that way to begin with, but I'm grateful. I definitely don't know how I would've made it home by myself if you hadn't been there."

"Of course," Ben uttered softly. "I was actually just leaving the area after meeting my mother for dinner, and I just happened to see you through the window. You were – pretty far gone."

Rey regarded the knowing look that played across his face at that. She scrunched her nose and knitted her brows, tentatively reaching her invisible feelers out to see just how bad she had actually been. "I didn't – you know, do or say anything out of the ordinary, did I?"

Ben flexed his jaw. He considered telling Rey the truth, but immediately shot down the thought for the sheer fact that he didn't want to make matters worse between them when they already appeared to be making progress.

Alas, Ben conceded by shaking his head in response.

Rey's shoulders fell lax, exerting a sigh in relief. "Thank God," she expressed with a nervous chuckle. "I was worried there for a second."

Ben was fairly certain that her response hadn't meant to be an insult, but it didn't stop the feeling of being overturned thinking that she'd be repulsed if anything physical had happened between them.

If only Rey knew how crazy she was beginning to drive him.

"Yeah, thank God." Ben mocked so as to not make his discomfort over the matter anymore obvious. He gave her a reassuring smile, and turned to head inside the house.

"Hey, Ben?"

His hand had just met the screen door's handle before the sound of Rey's voice made him freeze in place. He turned his head just enough to face her.

Worrying her bottom lip, and discarding her palette and brush on the ground, Rey stood from her seat to stand just before him with arms loosely crossed in front of her. "I need to ask you something. And I want you to be the one to tell me the truth."

Ben swallowed thickly; his eyes flickered over her face as if he'd find any hints as to what she wanted to ask him. However, the hunch that had been in the lump in his throat told him that he already knew. Allowing his hand on the door's handle to retreat and hang loosely at his side, he nodded to affirm that he was willing to do what she asked of him.

"Did you know what I would find in those text messages? Do you know her?"

Ben didn't need for her to elaborate on who she was talking about: he already knew although he wished that he could've had the luxury of playing dumb over the subject. Clenching his jaw, he felt another grating nerve twitch in his neck as he nodded the answer.

Rey snorted and shook her head. Exasperated, she threw her hands in the air in surrender before allowing them to fall back to her sides with an exaggerated slap against the denim covering her thighs. "Of course," she spat as she turned from him. "I can't believe I was so fucking stupid to believe I had been the only woman in his life this whole time."

"She's not in his life, Rey. She's just –." Ben had to bite his tongue to stop the words from spewing out of his mouth. He'd said too much already and, now, he was certain that he'd already seized her attention as Rey turned abruptly on her heal to face him.

Rey gave him a long, imploring look with narrowed eyes that only seemed to force Ben further into the corner that he managed to inadvertently back himself into. "She's what, Ben? Who is she?"

His chest ached as Ben took a breath, preparing himself for the inevitable storm that was surely about to happen. "She's just – the mother of his son."

Rey blinked once then, twice at his words. She wanted to faint. The blow managed to suck the air dry from her lungs, thwarting her from being able to speak anything past the coherent silence though her mouth was open slightly agape.

Nausea instantly crept its way into her stomach. Swallowing the bile down, she counted to ten in order to control her breathing that had become unsteady. Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes burned with the intention of wanting to cry, but that all managed to dissipate from the heat of anger boiling up in her chest.

Uncertain as to what emotion she wanted to latch onto first, Rey began to pace across the porch with a hand on her hip and the palm of her other pressed to her forehead, breathing in deep huffs of breath to keep herself from losing any remnants of sanity that she had left.

Ben's eyes remained fixed upon her, holding his breath just in case any sudden movement would spark the initiative to send her into a full-blown rampage. Her eyes were no longer the soft hazel but more of a stormy shade of grey, rendering her to the likes of a feral animal waiting to strike.

"Rey," Ben said quietly, apprehensively. Like, he was attempting to do the impossible of taming a wild cat that had been captured from the highest mountain peak and brought down to society's common ground.

Hearing Ben's voice had been enough to break Rey from her murderous mind frame and shoot him a dangerous glare, lips firmly pressed. He meant to tell her then, how sorry he was for everything. Though the look on her face made it that much harder for Ben to find words that would be enough to comfort her.

Ben swallowed heavily, thinking it best to just leave her be he attempted to make a silent exit by reaching for the screen door's handle. But Rey was adamant, and Hell bent on getting the remaining information that she needed.

"Don't you dare!" Rey demanded sharply. Seizing Ben by the forearm, she managed to jar his weight backwards by an inch with the amount of force that she put into pulling him. "I need answers, Ben! How in the hell did my fiancéhave a child that I knew nothing about?"

A low growl in irritation rumbled at the back of Ben's throat: mostly directed at Poe for putting him in this situation in the first place and partially at himself for staying long enough for it to happen. If his friend hadn't been dead already, chances were likely that Ben probably would've murdered Poe himself.

"It was a one-time thing when he had visited during a layover in LA," Ben replied with a hoarse timbre, holding up a single finger to indicate his point furthermore. "I invited him for a night out in the city; though I couldn't manage to baby sit him the entire time, Rey. Poe was capable of making his own decisions no matter how shitty they might've been."

Rey gave him a long look, and blinked. Furrowing her brows, she nodded curtly in understanding: no matter how hard it was to accept his harsh but needed words. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, feeling her anger subside into a more affable demeanor.

"Was it before or during me?" Rey asked silently, her eyes fixed on his.

Ben replied without haste with that of a more composed tone, "Before."

Rey nodded. "Okay, and how old is he? The –boy, I mean."

"I don't know, seven?" Ben replied tentatively. "Maybe eight."

Rey heaved out a sigh that managed to shake her shoulders, certain that she'd reached the brink of no longer being able to handle any further information about her late fiancé's secret life that she had been shielded from learning. She considered Ben momentarily, scoffing; her expression grew soft and knowing.

"Is this why you stayed? So, you could clean up after his mess?"

That's not the only reason, Ben wanted to say as he stared back at her. Rey was close enough to where, if he wanted to, he could pull her into him. But he refrained from doing so – for obvious reasons.

Instead, he cocked his head with a yearning in his eyes that Rey would've gotten the chance to explore more had she not blinked when Ben reached out, and cupped his hand softly to her cheek.

Rey's breathing hitched at the intimate gesture, regarding him perplexed with knitted brows. Especially because this was the first time they ever had skin-to-skin contact (that she could remember at least), the feeling of his warm and soft skin caused goose bumps to trickle up her arms, and a shiver to ripple up her spine. She didn't realize she had begun to lean into his touch as Ben grazed his thumb over the skin of her cheek until he retrieved his hand away, making her head jerk slightly from the lack of support.

"You had some paint on her cheek," Ben murmured with a crooked smile.

Rey sighed and rolled her eyes, hoping that he hadn't been able to see the shade of pink blush her cheeks. She turned away; taking her seat at the easel once again with a heavy flop down upon the wooden seat, shoulders slouching. She proceeded to stare absentmindedly at the half-finished painting in front of her.

Ben sniffed, and ran his hand casually through his hair. "Did she say what she wanted?"

Rey snorted. "What do you think?" She quipped, not looking away from her painting. "I didn't read all of the messages, but my guess is that she wants the money that Poe owes her."

Ben nodded and rolled his lips in brief thought, making an uncanny appearance. "I'll take care of it. I think she counts on it."

"I counted on him, too, Ben." Rey stated in a dull, emotionless tone. "And look where it got me."

Ben frowned at that. The renowned silence prompted him to take it as his queue to leave; though as he opened the screen door to go in the house, Ben turned his head askance towards Rey. "You know, I do miss him as a matter of fact. But as much as I miss that asshole I really just want to grab him the by shirt collar and tell him what a moron he is for not appreciating you the way he should've."

Rey scoffed. She turned to face Ben and ask what he meant by that, but the door had already slammed shut as he disappeared into the house. Within that moment Rey was able to recall his words prior to the discussion about the money, and how he had touched her: she knew for a fact that the paintbrush had never been close enough in order to leave a mark on her that day.


It took every ounce of Ben's willpower not to hurl his camera bag across the living room; more or less, regarding the fact that he didn't feel like dropping thousands of dollars into more lenses and a camera that he'd just gotten recently before coming to Colorado.

He settled the bag on the island counter in the kitchen, and reached for his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. Pulling up the Google Chrome app, he proceeded to type in Encino Hair, Nails and Day Spa. He quickly rehearsed the lines in his head what he planned on saying to the woman that he was attempting to contact, but the words escaped his thoughts after he heard the ring tone in his ear.

The call was answered by an unforeseen woman with a relatively cheerful voice. "Thank you for calling Encino Hair, Nails and Day Spa this is Jyn, how can I help you?"

Ben cleared his throat. "Yea, I'm trying to reach one of your massage therapists. I was wondering if she was in today."

"Sure, which one are you inquiring about?"

Ben began to pace across the kitchen, running an exasperated hand over his face. "Rose Tico."