Allana was still glaring, arms crossed and lips thinned slightly, as she enacted her best combined imitation of Leia Solo and Tenel Ka Djo, her mouth twisted to the side to stop herself from speaking in a more unconscious imitation of Jaina when she was trying, for once, to hold back a bit of sarcasm. It was an expression that, back in her own reality, Han Solo had informed his wife proudly, was “shaping up to be a Solo-worthy glare.” She gave it her full concentration now, except for the space in her mind that was occupied with thinking up new retorts to his confused muttering. After all, the angrier she was the less she noticed the way her usually cocky friend was too exhausted to come up with any kind of defense or even move very quickly, the way he didn’t even seem awake enough to care about his rather pathetic retorts even though the poison was gone.
Unfortunately, Jedi were trained to recognize their emotions, to control and to deal with them. She might be angry that Kon had been foolish enough not to tell anyone he was feeling the effects of the poison until it had come close to being too late, but she couldn’t pretend anger was all it was. Her expression softened infinitesimally, the corners of her mouth drawing down slightly and her eyes dropping to her own hands so that she looked more stern than furious. I am not scared, she told herself, I am mad. Not mad that he scared me. Mad that he is a moron.
“It better not happen again,” she muttered in response to his apology, “and if anything like this ever does happen again you will tell someone instead of ignoring it until you’re an unconscious pile of stupid.” Her tone made it clear he wasn’t out of the doghouse, so to speak, quite yet but when he winced she reached out without hesitation and laid her fingertips gently on his temple. He was resistant to mind control, she knew that, and so she didn’t try to mind trick him or press him back into sleep but concentrated on the healing part of the Force to sooth some of the pain. Healing had never been her forte as it required too much patience, too much precise knowledge, and too much time to second guess yourself unless you had one of those natural, intensely powerful talents like Cade’s, but the light side of the Force was encouraged by feelings of protectiveness and by good intentions. It could be easier, sometimes, to heal a friend.
“You deserve the headache you know,” she informed him, trying to keep up the sternness, “you’re lucky I’m supposed to get some practice in on pain relief.”