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Amilyn Holdo’s known Leia since she was sixteen years old, and she’s not about to let her down now. When she was a young girl, she was excited by the thought of death, if only because of what lay beyond. Even the prospect of what lay beyond was an adventure in and of itself.
It’s different when people under your command die. And it’s different when your dear friend holocalls you because her husband was murdered.
Holdo already knows, of course. Because Hux made sure to broadcast it to the rest of the galaxy when it happened. Holdo was stuck on Coruscant when it happened, but Hux, the waste of skin, made sure to broadcast it across the galaxy. To brag about it. He probably thought bragging about Han’s death would make the galaxy fear them more.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
“I saw the news,” Holdo says, softly. “I’m sorry, Leia.”
She listens. She’s horrified to hear that Ben Solo (or Kylo Ren), of all people, killed Han Solo. She can’t reach through the screen and comfort Leia, though she wants to. But she can try and help her, comfort her, any way she can.