Well there was no denying his face. Impossibly young but absolutely the man she had idolized most of her life. Somehow stripped of his years and the burden of those years, here he stood looking like that hero from the stories.

Unbidden she feels herself tearing up, emotion pouring forth from every part of her, because she had felt him die.

Then she realizes she's staring, awkward and on the verge of crying and she blinks, tearing her gaze away from him and looking down at the floor, at the bins next to her, at anything to keep the tears from escaping.

"I'm- um. I'm." She stammers, trying to think of something sufficient to say. What was she to him? Nothing, no one. She hadn't even been his student, not really.

"My name is Rey," she finally lands on, lame and sheepish.