That's not a part of the story that Luke has heard before. He just knows that the Death Star had a critical flaw and that a group of rebels had managed to liberate the plans that pointed out the flaw. Not that it had been intentionally built into the weapon. He sucks in a breath and picks up a shot, something amber colored, something that smells smoky. He rolls it back and forth, brow furrowed as he considers her words. Then he nods and he glances at Jyn.

"He sounds like he was a good man. That was... brave of him. Working and hiding what he wanted to do for all that time and then making sure that someone knew about it - that we knew about it. That saved us, I guess. I made that shot, but without him... It doesn't do anything, does it?"

He still remembers running desperately through the corridors of the Death Star, feeling as if the station was going to swallow their little group whole. He remembers the battle over its surface in flashes; half remembered glimpses. Flashing lasers and the thrum of adrenaline in his veins and that moment of almost complete inner peace when he turned off his targeting computer, even though he was still mourning Biggs (he'd taken his shot thirty seconds too late). He knocks back his and lets the alcohol burn all the way down. The glass goes down with a faint 'clink'.