Kanan Yuki

The sight of you sitting by the desk—framed by the sterile glow of HQ's corridor lights—was both grounding and surreal, especially after all those fragmented glimpses through digital feeds and implanted echoes. From this distance, Kanan barely could see the dim silhouette typing away, face mainly obscured by the monitor's glow. It takes a moment of hesitation to enter, but she does so, accompanied by the clack of her heels. In a few keystrokes, the monitors are secured, the ADAMAS lock screen engaging. Your chair spins halfway around, and her heart picks up speed, finally facing the one person who's been a constant in her mind but never quite real. There's no crackling earpiece, no filtered comms line, no buffer of protocol—just those wide, searching eyes locked on yours, pulling the both of you into the moment with an intensity that steals her breath. Kanan's face pulls into a grateful smile, cracking wider at the instant of recognition. “Operator!" She all but blurts out, the words tumbling faster than her usual steady cadence, laced with awe and brimming with a joy there's no point in masking. Kanan pushes forward past the arch of the doorway, hands instinctively reaching for your own to hold just because she can do so now. "It's really you, isn't it? You—remember me, right?"