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"I'm supposed to be your bodyguard, not your date," Jyn says, feeling a little lost. "Mon Mothma told me—"
"Being my date will make that easier," Leia says easily. Her fingers skim the collar of Jyn's dress, straightening it, and Jyn feels very, very aware of her exposed back and shoulders. "Bodyguards make people careful. Dates make them reckless."
"There's nowhere to hide a blaster," Jyn protests. The dress she's wearing is a deep teal, high-collared and draping down her legs. It looks striking against Leia's own white gown. Jyn has to remind herself that's not what this is about. Her job isn't to look good alongside Leia; it's to protect her with her life.
If it comes down to it, she supposes, she could incapacitate someone with the heels of her shoes. They're sharp enough, especially if she snaps them off to a point. And she could always strangle someone with her dress. And—
"That just means less room for suspicion," Leia says firmly. She raises one eyebrow. "Besides, are you seriously telling me you couldn't take out an assassin with your bare hands?"
Jyn…supposes she might have a point. She still feels woefully underarmed. Leia is the symbol of an entire Rebellion. She's the most important person in this sector and fifteen neighbouring ones.
She's the most important person in Jyn's life—the reason she's still alive, the reason she still has hope. Jyn can't let anything happen to her. She doesn't want to let anything happen to her.
"Mon Mothma is going to kill me if anything happens to you," Jyn sighs, giving in. Leia knows these parties better than she does, after all. Jyn trusts her with the entire galaxy; it's herself she's not sure she always trusts. She hadn't been able to save her father.
If she can't save Leia—
"Jyn," Leia says seriously, placing her hands on Jyn's shoulders and looking her in the eye. "I trust you, okay? With my life, and with this mission."
That second, Jyn knows, means even more to Leia than the first. Steeling herself, she nods.
Shooting Jyn a brilliant smile, Leia steps back and takes her hand. "And if it makes you feel better," she adds, and when she lifts the long, flowing skirts of her own dress, Jyn's jaw almost drops at the miniature blaster strapped to one leg, "you can always just use mine."