For lighting, Rey leaves the supplies for the people who actually need them. Even without a flame, she can traverse the dark on her own just fine. She couldn't even begin to count the time she had spent in the darkness of the sky prison, traversing the walls and waterways by the map she had committed to memory. And in that darkness also waited various abominations produced by the synthetics' experiments.

While Rey doesn't have the same concerns now that she did in that prison, she still has a similar problem. Her survival instincts aren't something that one can just turn off, leaving potential tricksters to pop out in attempts to startle in jeopardy rather than herself.

Rey will not spook that easily, this much she has told herself. So when she is out scouring the streets, she is on her guard, but not too guarded-- if such a thing is possible.

Somewhere along the trek back home, the paths intersect, leading both Rey and Nick at a crossroad. As if the lantern didn't give his position away enough, his glowing eyes all but immediately confirms his identity for her, and she relaxes.

Without realizing it, Rey has her own light right now: The tips of her fingers on her extended hand casually burn just enough to provide illumination to show the way towards her roommate and friend.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost mistake you for being a couple of fireflies from a distance."

Don't mind her or the fire that doesn't seem to be going anywhere beyond her hand, or melting her flesh.