Rey's anger is visceral and sharp. The desk goes flying. Papers scatter and wood splinters against the wall. Maketh holds her ground, back perfectly straight, eyes narrowed tight and full of fury. But she holds. She stands her ground and doesn't give an inch. Inside she feels suddenly, utterly calm. The eye of the storm. Nothing at all can touch her.

"You are acting like a child," Maketh says, voice purposefully soft. "Of all these people, I thought you would understand what we face."

Instead she's arguing against Maketh's brutal, Imperial logic. So what if it came from the Empire? Their teachings made her strong and they have need of that strength, now.

"The general is useful. More so alive than not." Maketh narrows her eyes in warning. "More so than you have been, of late."