It's childish, but Leia can't stop herself from asking—

"Who is she?"

She watches the woman you were just talking to leave. Some pilot whose name she can't recall. It doesn't matter. She doesn't care about the pilot. Her eyes are on you.

She doesn't consider herself the jealous type. It feels like there's liquid fire bubbling up in her veins— but it's not jealousy. So what if the thought of you being with another woman makes her feel like she's falling apart?

That doesn't mean anything.