Her eyes go very wide, and she swallows a few times.

Grin!

"So yeah. After dinner."

"Yeah." Brain reboot. "You might need the extra time, after all," she teases.

She is not doing very well at playing it cool, is she.

"It'll be a help."

"Give you time to get going properly."

"Really get into the show."

"You're taking up acting?"

"It's a performance."

"What's the difference?"

"I don't have to be acting to express the truest, deepest depths of my heart."

Aww. "Lots of people wear masks," she comments, off handed almost. "Even in this sort of thing."

"That's not how I do things."

"Wear your heart on your sleeve?"

"Or just kinda wrapped around my arm. I might not be wearing sleeves."

Hum.

(She wants to just laugh, but.)

"It's - dangerous for most people. Being honest like that."

((Dangerous for Leia.))

((((What she feels is so deeply buried, bound so tightly to her bones, even she doesn't know all of it. Probably not even most of it.))))

(((Dalia's cute. Leia never thinks about whether that means Leia likes her, not where her conscience mind can notice. Liking people is dangerous, too.)))

"It's princess privilege, then."

(Her answering smile looks amused. Her emotions in the Force are as flat as ever - not unusual for a total Force null, especially with how preliminary Dalia's training still is - and echo the same quiet amusement as what's on her face, washing through the faint unease Dalia would expect from someone with sympathy for but no actual commitment to the Rebellion. Everything about her is perfectly congruent.)

((But something seems off, even if Dalia has no idea how.))

"I suppose it is," she says, tone light.

((((Her true anger is born in her bones, deeper in her than her heart can hold, and her bones protect it.))))

"Do you want princess privilege?"

"It is the duty of every subject of the Empire to be fully honest, regardless." Light shrug. "And it is the prerogative of the Imperial family to say what is acceptable to think. And I don't want that power." Her expression is even, her tone formal.

(Her emotions are a lukewarm sort of neutral. Not sycophantic, but not in open rejection. Resigned, perhaps, and quietly so. Truthful all the same.)

((There's something frigid in the room. In the Force, maybe.))

Well that killed the mood. Whoops.

"I'm not trying to trap you, Leia."

((Sure she's not.))

Leia just... Shrugs. "Didn't think you were."

Awkwaaaard.

...Sigh.

"Do you want to unpack any before dinner?"

"...You're still okay with me staying?"

"I mean - nothing's changed?"