Krennic watched with avid eyes as she cradled the Death Star in the palms of her hands. It really was silly, the attachment he'd developed to it since carving it, but it was a symbol of his life's work. He'd seen the power it wrought, the devastation it brought, first hand, before waking up here, but he hadn't seen it fulfill its ultimate mission, he hadn't seen it destroy Alderaan. But he could have it now, safe, in the hands of someone who was more capable of keeping it that way.
"My dear," He started, the way he usually addressed women, and then corrected himself. "Lieutanent. It seems only fitting that you should be the one to keep it safe. You're right, it's a little thing, but it's a reminder of what I worked toward and a reminder of the legacy the First Order is carrying on. It's only right that you should protect it from the Rebels and the Resistance."
Her hand fell to his knee and Krennic allowed himself another small smile, his hand falling atop hers for a moment. He didn't squeeze or press and he let her withdraw it after a moment, finally turning away from her to look into the fire for a minute or two. "We're so few here, Lieutenant." He said, finally turning back to her. "And surrounded by scum. I do hope we'll stick together against them."