He isn't sure he'll ever be ready for this. All he has to go on here is the hope that Rey is really capable of safely doing this, and that she won't take advantage when Lark couldn't stop her from finding anything she wanted--or that she won't turn him into the passionately devoted soldier he'd once been to someone else with this power.
It takes a long time, a half hour at least, and a lot of deep but shaky breaths, before he feels like he can handle this. He has to handle this. "Okay."
She doesn't rush him. She doesn't even fidget while he adjusts to the idea, while he breathes and tries to relax, and she knows her presence is very rarely a soothing one but she does her best to stay relaxed herself, open to him, soft, and when he finally gives her the okay she nods and closes her eyes.
And for all the preparation he'd needed, the image she gives him is benign, harmless. It's BB-8 in the sand on Jakku, beeping at her sweetly while she fixes his bent antennae. It's only a few seconds, barely a flash, and nothing about it is painful or frightening.
Lark has never had any sort of attachment to machines. He's had nice cars, expensive appliances, sure. He even had a phone that, some said, would someday be able to talk back to him. But those were just metal and plastic and rubber, filled with wires and computer chips.
BB-8 has changed his opinion, even though the only interaction they've had was when Lark inadvertently insulted him. The flash in his mind is there just long enough to elicit a sense of curiosity and bewilderment and fondness in Lark: the same tangle of emotions he always feels toward BB-8.
"No," he can say that without having to pause to check himself over. It was there and gone too fast to feel alien, and the overall feel of it was pleasant. "Is the rest going to be like that?"
"Yes, we'll just be sharing images. I won't take anything, you'll just think of the bridge as you saw it and I'll draw what you show me. We can start with something easier first if that would help you get used to it. You could just think of- what you ate for breakfast."
She frowns faintly, but it's more at the question, the idea of it, than anything else.
"I don't know how to do that, not like you mean, but even if I did I wouldn't." She says honestly, reaching for the pencil and pulling some paper towards herself. "It would have been better to say I won't go looking through your thoughts, I'll just see what you want me to see and nothing else."
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It takes a long time, a half hour at least, and a lot of deep but shaky breaths, before he feels like he can handle this. He has to handle this. "Okay."
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And for all the preparation he'd needed, the image she gives him is benign, harmless. It's BB-8 in the sand on Jakku, beeping at her sweetly while she fixes his bent antennae. It's only a few seconds, barely a flash, and nothing about it is painful or frightening.
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BB-8 has changed his opinion, even though the only interaction they've had was when Lark inadvertently insulted him. The flash in his mind is there just long enough to elicit a sense of curiosity and bewilderment and fondness in Lark: the same tangle of emotions he always feels toward BB-8.
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"Did that bother you?"
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Something equally small, and not at all personal.
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"I don't know how to do that, not like you mean, but even if I did I wouldn't." She says honestly, reaching for the pencil and pulling some paper towards herself. "It would have been better to say I won't go looking through your thoughts, I'll just see what you want me to see and nothing else."