"So you're a fighter," Krennic said, trying to place her. Here he thought she was probably just a wanted criminal, or something like that. And it's clear that she wore her demons on her sleeve, too. But now he's processing all the bits and pieces of information that Harley has told him so far, only interrupted when his drink was refilled, and once more he took a grateful sip of it. He could get used to the taste. "I like that." he told her, smiling. "What about your team? Are they like you? What kind of people are they?"

His expression darkens again when they return to the topic of Galen, and he took another large gulp of his whiskey. "It was more than that," he said, a little anger making its way into his voice. "He loves his dead wife and his kriffing pacifism more than me, or helping me achieve my rightful place in the Empire," Krennic spat out. "Good thing my Death Troopers shot his wife. She shot me too, that little bitch." there was a pause, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "So I wanted a little distraction, if you get what I mean. And if you don't mind."