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“A nexu cub?! Where on earth did you find a nexu cub?”
“Quiet!” hisses Finn, and casts a nervous glance around the landing area. “Come. I’ll show you.”
Poe scratches the back of his neck bemusedly, then shrugs and follows.
**
Cargo Hold Three of the Millennium Falcon has dim lighting and cold metal floors. The life support system emits a low-frequency hum even while mostly idle, but the distant noises of everyday life in the D’Qar base are easy to block.
Rey sits on the floor cross-legged, eyes closed and hands resting in her lap. Inhale. Exhale. Try to appear non-threatening. Just breathe.
A pitiful, mewling growl rises from behind the backmost crates.
I know, little one. You’re far from home. You miss your mum. Me too.
**
“What is she doing?” Poe whispers, eyes glued to the small, flickering monitor.
“Being stupid.” Finn rubs his forehead, equally focused. “Some Jedi stuff, I guess.”
“Huh.”
Suddenly, the image blinks out and BB-8 lets out a distressed trill.
**
“Rey!”
“Are you alright? Rey!”
Sound of two pairs of heavy boots on the metal grille combined with anxious whir comes to a halt.
“Yes, I know. They’re very noisy, aren’t they?”
She casts a reproachful glance over her shoulder, but her face breaks into a grin at the sight of their bewildered faces.
Poe and Finn look at each other, then back at Rey in unison. She nods and they creep closer as carefully as they can.
The nexu must be a month old at most. It’s approximately the size of a small astromech droid, all fluffy fur and razor-sharp teeth. It has curled into a contented ball in Rey’s lap, its whip of a forked tail wrapped possessively around her arm.
She smiles up at them, and they could swear there is some suspicious dampness in her eyes.
“I think I’m her mum now.”