I want her redeemed

"I want her redeemed," you reply, your voice unwavering. "A post-Empire Dedra in a cardigan who bakes me scones and calls me ‘darling’ in a soft Coruscanti accent."

The genie blinks, his expression switching between confusion and genuine curiosity. He scratches his head. "Okay, what's the point of picking a space fascist if you want a good version of her?"

You meet his gaze, steady and sure. "I don’t want a good version. I want a redeemed version. This is the same Dedra Meero who did all the awful things we saw in Andor. But after the Empire falls, after everything she’s done. I want to show her that there’s more to life than promotions in a fascist empire. That there’s more to life than crushing rebellions and torturing rebel spies."

The genie just stares at you, the weight of your words sinking in. You keep going, feeling more passionate with each sentence.

"I want to take her on dates. I want to teach her the joys of ice cream, cakes, and movies. I want to show her what it’s like to laugh without guilt. I want to marry her, have cute little kids with her, and be loving parents. I want to make her believe in something better."

The silence that follows is heavy. The genie doesn’t move for a long moment, floating in place as if processing your request. His expression is a mix of incredulity and amusement. Then, with a sigh, he opens his mouth, still hovering in the air.

"Damn. You are down bad, all right. But you know what? I’m bringing her in." He flicks his wrist, a small spark of light flying from his hand. "Let’s see if the power of your feelings can pull this off."