You don't have to. I can leave you alone to think about it if you want. But - she doesn't want to scare him - she's a little worried about the fact that she has - and that's easier if she knows what's going on.

He opens it up.

someone likes you because they don't know enough about you. they don't know all the parts of you that are broken or removed or too much. they will leave you behind when they realize everything that is missing. they will hate you when they realize everything that is there.

you do not deserve to leave. you do not deserve anything at all.

You're very silly, she sends, fondly, and echoes his strength back to him again: you're lovely. It doesn't matter what he's missing; the important thing is there. And her love doesn't run on deservingness anyway, but -

you deserve the space you are currently occupying,
the air in your lungs, the clothes on your back,
you deserve everything you have ever wanted
to be placed at your feet like an offering.
you deserve space, so much space,
room to manoeuvre and spread out and breathe.
if i could, i would bottle the stars for you.
if no one else will, then i will carve out a space for you,
use my own bare hands if i have to.
you deserve the space you occupy,
you deserve to occupy space, as much space
as you need, as you want, as you can,
you deserve to be comfortable. to be happy. to
have everything you have ever wanted placed at your feet.

[source]

He loves her.

And he doesn't – nobody would – deserve this place. And neither does she. And if he lets that voice keep speaking to him as if it deserves anything, they won't get anything better.

He chokes it, snuffs it out, as well as he can before he urges her body to stand.

Up she goes. More rings?

(She loves him. She loves him. She keeps sending it, little nondistracting bursts of warmth and comfort; it's important that he knows.)

More rings.

As they jump to place them, one by one, he understands her movements more and more, and feels more and more of...whatever she's doing, with the Force.

(She loves him!)

(She does! She loves him! He's so great!)

Now what? She can show him some acrobatic forms, if he wants, or they can just play around for a while.

Forms seem like they’d be useful. They probably teach them for a reason.

After that...well, fooling around is the best way to learn, isn’t it?

Mmhmm. She takes him through a couple of the basic ones, one focusing on unenhanced movement, flipping and tumbling along the rings, the other an early practice routine for Force enhancements that has them bouncing from floor to ceiling and back again. (Her memories of the forms aren't aren't reliable, exactly; if he were to ask her to lay it all out start to finish for him she clearly wouldn't be able to. But each step reminds her of the next, when she's doing them, like lines of a poem, and that's enough to carry her through.)

He tries to keep track of the movements well enough to learn something from it.

It's amazing, though, what she can do with her body (well, with her mind, as well, given the enhancements). He wonders whether he can take any of this back to himself, but even if he can't...

He'll be able to practice with her, someday. She looks forward to it, and not just because it means they'll be free.

He does too.

He can't wait to meet her.

Yeah. Yeah.

...can they hang upside-down from the rings with their feet?

(Presumably playtime has started.)

Of  course! (Hanging by the knees gives a better base for doing things like upside down curls, though. Hard to get any leverage with just your feet.)

Well, back to their knees, then! And curl up to the ceiling! And swing across the grid, never holding on with two hands at once...

(He’s having fun.)

These things are all possible! It's harder with less muscle memory to rely on, and a few times she has to steady him with careful use of the Force, but they never fall.

She doesn't tire - in fact, going by her body's clock it feels like early afternoon - but after a while the droid appears at the door. Time for bed.

...huh.

doesn't feel like it.

Yeah, that happens. She's not wrong. She drops from the ceiling and heads back toward the bedroom.

Y'wanna hang around? Shower, next.

i mean, if you're okay with it...

(He worries that he won't feel anything.)

It seems a little silly to want to hide anything now, she sends, amused, and then goes a bit more serious - but it's fine if you'd rather not, I understand. (She sends him another little burst of love.)

...better to know than not know, i guess.

(And he really does want to feel this.)

Okay. She's proud of him; she lets it show through.

The bathroom is large, done up in black-veined white and cloudy mustard-yellow marble with dark golden hardware in an elegant style. She strips, efficiently, not looking much, and then pauses before heading back to the shower cubicle; does he want to check out the mirror first, get it over with?

Yes. He does.