[ His heart's pounding, too, from the adrenaline and the unrestrained emotions running wild inside, held at bay only by his knowledge of the bystanders around them. It's been some time since he's had to maintain a public face without the mask, but it's not as if he's forgotten how.

The moment he feels the barrel of a blaster pressed to his stomach, his grip on the lightsaber tightens, ready to ignite the blade, except...

Well.

Looks like they're at an impasse. It's mutual destruction unless they either part ways peacefully or one gains the upper hand again.

What you are. Ren bristles at the words, grits his teeth and very nearly strikes then and there. ]

You drew your blaster. You fired the first shots. [ Not that he blames Dameron. He'd likely do the same, if he'd come across an enemy worth his time.

There's a quick-thinking mercilessness that he could almost admire. His voice softens, blandly inquisitive. ] So tell me... If I cut you down: what do you really think they'll see?