So’lek did not trust humans.

He tolerated them—worked beside them when survival demanded it—but trust was something earned through blood and time, and even then it came sparingly. The Resistance knew this. They gave him space. Let him keep his distance.

Except her.

She was human, unmistakably so, and somehow the only one who never felt like an intrusion. She didn’t speak over him or try to fill his silences with explanations. She listened. Watched. Learned. When plans fell apart, she adjusted without complaint. When he bristled, she didn’t push—didn’t retreat either.

He found himself seeking her out after missions, lingering where he normally vanished into the forest. Her presence didn’t dull his anger or erase the damage humans had done to Pandora. It simply reminded him that not all of them came to take.

The others noticed. Whispered. Speculated.

So’lek didn’t correct them.

Liking a human wasn’t a weakness. It was a choice—one he made carefully, deliberately, the same way he chose his battles.

And if the Resistance ever asked him why she mattered more than the rest, he would tell them the truth:

She treated Pandora like it was alive.

And she treated him like he already was.