Not because of the man, he doesn't so much as cause a flicker of recognition, but the little droid rolling by his feet certainly does. The more she sees the droid the more she can feel it, the itch of familiarity, and to scratch it -- well. To scratch it she just keeps following him until she figures out why the hell the little orange and white robot is so familiar to her.
It's about three streets before she puts a name to the droid, and she announces her presence a little while behind the pair with a rather loud, "BB-8!"
The droid had brought her to someone important, she knows that. She can remember him, remember his face and his name and the annoying way he kept holding her damn hand, but why was he important? What were they resisting? It's a question for another day. Now she's rushing in to close the gap between them instead.
one!
Not because of the man, he doesn't so much as cause a flicker of recognition, but the little droid rolling by his feet certainly does. The more she sees the droid the more she can feel it, the itch of familiarity, and to scratch it -- well. To scratch it she just keeps following him until she figures out why the hell the little orange and white robot is so familiar to her.
It's about three streets before she puts a name to the droid, and she announces her presence a little while behind the pair with a rather loud, "BB-8!"
The droid had brought her to someone important, she knows that. She can remember him, remember his face and his name and the annoying way he kept holding her damn hand, but why was he important? What were they resisting? It's a question for another day. Now she's rushing in to close the gap between them instead.