He keeps his arm around her waist until they're through the front door, then he turns away long enough to close it. Lean against it. Thump his head lightly on the wood.

"Beebee," Poe says, his voice suddenly flat and serious. "The cameras."

BB-8's response is vastly more enthusiastic, a cheerful burble of noises before the droid pops his arc welder from one of the panels at his side and starts rolling through the house joyfully shorting out every camera he can reach and shooting grapnels into the lenses of the ones he can't.

It gives Poe a moment to try and get his head on straight. Sort himself out. Put memories in proper context.

What doesn't help is seeing her standing in his foyer, luminescent, lips puffy from being kissed, and wanting very much to do that again. Ignore the rest, forget it all, and just kiss her.

It would be easy.

Poe's never been good at easy.

"I'm... sorry. I remembered. I mean, I remembered... what they wanted me to, I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have done that."

He touches her hand, the gesture like muscle memory, a little reassurance that she's there.

And then he yanks back sharply and takes a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."