It's only when his arm curls around her that she moves, shifting to sink against him and wrap both of her arms around his. It's with the kind of hysterical insistance that leaves no thought for any injuries and her normal care for not being too rough with him -- she isn't thinking about that right now. It's such a stark difference from the woman usually so unwilling to show any sign of weakness lest it be used against her. But she isn't thinking about that either.

"He was alone," she murmurs, ducking her head against his chest. She and Cassian had been together when Scarif had gone down, but... Bodhi had been alone. In Jyn's eyes alone meant not with her since the less traumatized part of her brain knows full well there were Alliance fighters assigned to maintain the ship so they could escape, a laughable notion now.

But he wasn't with her and he had died and Jyn had lost the one link she had left to her father, which she selfishly mourns more than the loss of the sweet, cheerful, effervescent man himself. Another facet of her crippling guilt.