Eight-Seven shifted uncomfortably and wished he still had his helmet on. This felt like a trick, as if he was being quizzed. The helmet provided not only uniformity, but anonymity which meant she wouldn't be able to gauge his uncertainty. But with the helmet tucked under his arm, he felt exposed. He didn't really remember parents. He didn't really remember life outside of the First Order and he wondered if he was supposed to. Or wasn't supposed to. Which one was correct? He assumed the latter. After all, they were meant to be raised up with the military as their only family. The First Order the only thing to claim their allegiance and devotion.
"I understand why it had to be done," he answered after a delay. "It's the First Order's duty to combat the depravity of the Republic. They have to be stopped and to do that, you need troops." It made sense, in a detached sort of way, and Eight-Seven had been so good at being detached for so long. He wondered why he struggled with it now and he wondered if she could tell.
"Were you not trained the same way?" he asked. He was curious as to how other people came into their positions. He understood the idea of moving up within ranks, but everyone had to start somewhere. Eight-Seven knew that not everyone was gathered in childhood to become what they were chosen to be, and he understood that he was probably overstepping boundaries to question her, but he was curious. And he thought he had evaded falling into any traps her questions could have set up so far, so Eight-Seven felt comfortable enough to test the waters.