Cassian smiles but it's tight, the way smiling at something that hurts a little tends to be.

"We were."

He takes a breath as he starts moving around the kitchen. "My mother was terrifying. Incredibly intelligent and unafraid of anything. She would walk into a room and demand respect, attention. No room for bullshit, or hiding behind consideration. She advocated for what was right.

But she had her vanities. The culture, the language, they were hers. On top of..." Cassian waves a hand, shrugs. His mother was beautiful, he remembers being told, but he has stronger memories of her voice and hands than her face, so he's not sure if he wants to say that exactly.