She purses her lips at dustball but doesn't say anything else about it. She's grown used to people insulting her home planet. She knows it's a desolate place, but there was beauty there, if you knew where to look. She would always have a place in her heart for dry sand and night breezes.

At his surprise of her knowledge of far off places she shrugs.

"A lot of people pass through Jakku. I've met Zabraks from Iridonia and I've never seen one that looked like you. But I know stories about Dathomir and the witches there." She'd always liked stories like that. Anything that was exotic and different, which was just about everything when you lived on Jakku.