Worrying about Junior speaking up was never the problem. He was quiet and difficult to talk to by nature; being put under some legitimate form of distress was only going to worsen that. When it came to communication, their connection as twins was generally more valuable than using the Force simply because Ben had always known what those feelings meant on the personal level. Never mind that Junior's own connection to the Force had been meager at best until their connection had been clouded fifteen years past.

Breath came to Junior like he was trying to extract oxygen from water. Choking up here and now wasn't going to do anything but even the contact through cloth and leather, small and brief and overall inconsequential, felt powerful enough to move the stars. He swallowed against it, forced his lungs to keep working against the tide of emotion. His lips curled into a small smile, one of hope and assurance, before it faded only for the sake of posterity. "Go. Do your dark lord thing," he implored. The slight crack to his voice was telling enough that drawing attention to it would only make it worse.

They were going to get out of this. They were. Maker take them all, Junior would not allow this opportunity to pass them by.