He couldn't say that he wasn't used to be manipulated or controlled. How many years had he spent under Snoke's gnarled fingers, prisoner to those gnarled fingers as his Master pulled at the strings. Even before he had turned against his uncle, he'd been a puppet.
But Rey's hold on him did not feel like shackles. Even if he could sense that she was less than happy with him, it wasn't an angry feeling that hit him. Only a mild displeased one. And a little of something else.
His dark hair had grown long and now, as he was forced down to her level, hung down in messy pieces over his forehead and half his face. But it still couldn't cover the half-mad smile. He refused to let it die. His eyes met her's straight-on, his chin defiant in her hand.
"I always take you seriously. Or is there something else you meant ...for me to take?" His gaze fell to her lips, then back up to her matching hazel eyes.