"Neither can I," he admitted. Once, he might have been able to. Once, on Chandrila, when they'd been a family, and his hopes had still been very small in comparison to the life he'd lived. When all he'd wanted was to be like his father, the man who always seemed just slightly out of reach.

"We'll have two. Over-easy," he said, his gaze sliding from Rey's stricken face to the waitress, who seemed largely unfazed by Rey's indecision. "Wheat toast. Orange juice. And a side of bacon."

She opened her mouth, prepared to ask yet another question, but the stony expression she was met with had her gathering up their menus and hurrying off to put in their order.

With a sigh, Ben turned to look at the window, as a car drove slowly by.