He didn't necessarily expect the gesture to be embraced by his son. He's never been very good with tenderness, in general. Familial. Romantic. Plutonic. He'd had the kind of life that taught him a lot of things, but not how to be affectionate.

The touch ends up, probably, being on the brief side.

"It only went on for a couple of minutes before I had run in to get you." He says. "You ended up holding your own a lot better that I expected, the cub you were grappling with was on his back with you on top of him, but you had a deep cut in your right arm by the time I got to you. I'm pretty sure the scratch was accidental."

His kid. Mixing it up with the other Wookiees because, well, he can only presume that the young boy felt like he belonged among them. He was kind of proud, to be honest.

"Your mom mentioned before you were born she thought you'd be a fighter." How right she turned out to be. "And I never remembered seeing you back down from something just because it was going to be hard."