“Tell me about her,” Rey demands, and listens, utterly enraptured, until his voice breaks down in the telling of all his mother’s exploits.

“I want to be just like her,” she sighs, and pushes a drink into his hand, all the better for him to keep talking.

Poe just laughs, and drinks, and reflects that he’s chosen pretty well; of all the women in the galaxy, he’s found one that cares more about who his mother was than about her ring, sparkling up from Rey’s hand.