She mimics the action, inviting him to practice with her hand again, but then freezes in bafflement, caught between an impulse to go to her gym and have him practice lightsaber forms with her and a strong directive to not do that.

He figures whatever that directive is is probably important.

i can just try your hand, for now...

He tries to mimic writing in midair, then count up on her fingers.

They're clumsy, at first, but the trick of it seems to be finding the right balance of control; they'll need practice, but only that.

They don't get very much before the droid shows up with his dinner.

...okay. He can figure this out. If they just keep trying–

The door opens and he freezes in terror before he realizes it's just one of the droids.

It takes a minute for him to make himself move to accept the food.

She abandons the sensory aspect of the telepathy - it doesn't disappear entirely, but fades into the background as she stops paying attention to what she's feeling - to swirl worriedly around him.

When the door closes he tucks himself into a corner with his food and waits a minute for his heart to calm down.

...just a droid.

Yeah, but - she's sure that there's a reason he reacted like that, the same way she's sure there's a reason that practicing letting him guide her is a good thing, but she doesn't know what it is, and it worries her.

you don't–

No. It's fine. She...loses things, but she gets them back. It'll be fine.

Yeah. (She wonders, momentarily, if this is as bad as it gets, or whether there's something she'd be warning him of if she remembered it. She thinks there is; she feels basically okay, right now, and she's pretty sure that there are times when she doesn't.)

He eats his food quickly and mechanically and tries to settle back down so he can look through her eyes again.

(He's troubled, not knowing what 'worse' would be.)

Her food comes shortly after his, and she doesn't rush, and by the time he'd done she's taken a few bites of the fancy bacon-topped twice-baked potato and is about halfway through the honey-mustard glazed salmon steak, with a little scoop of baked wax beans and wilted spinach as yet untouched next to them; her droid is sitting on the bed next to her, holding a glass of something light and bubbly to avoid the risk of it spilling. She smiles a little and sends a half-remembered hug when she feels his attention return.

Oh. Good food.

He stops everything else so he can focus in on her sense of taste.

Yeah.

She takes her time with it, enjoying taste and texture both; the drink, when she sips from it, seems to be sparkling pear juice.

He can definitely enjoy this, after the identical and incredibly bland meals he's been getting.

(If this were given to him, at this point, he would be suspicious and terrified. Through her, it's just good food.)

Good.

The meal seems to strengthen her, her thoughts getting more complex and abstract, slowly, as she eats. Near the end, she stops all of a sudden, her stomach sinking - I forgot your - and she sends the memory of giving a bonecrushing hug.

He echoes the memory gladly.

i thought...i knew you'd remember. it's okay.

He's so glad she's come back.

It's not, really.

(She shouldn't be pushing herself to do words, she really shouldn't, but fuck that; angry as she is she'd do more harm stopping herself than continuing to do just what she wants.)

Force, but we need to get out of here.

yeah. out of here would be good.

Yeah.

I have a plan, she sends, spearing her last bite of salmon and gulping it down.

That definitely has his attention.

i'm listening.

She pauses to think of how to explain it, and promptly loses her ability to do anything involving that many words. She continues anyway, gently stretching out her back and limbs while she explains.

What she needs is, put simply, an opening; in practice what that means is her master alone, distracted, away from the other apprentices, in the right part of the compound for her to get to his quarters afterward to get the spaceship passkeys - and, she needs to be in good enough mental shape herself to challenge him; she's deceiving him right now by being in the habit of acting more impaired than she is, which means she won't slip up and wreck the whole thing, but also means that most of the time, even if there is an opening, she can't take advantage of it, because she can't trust herself to recognize that it is a good time to break those habits.

It'll come together eventually, but if he helps her, it will be much faster. Letting him pilot her is less effort than making decisions about how to act, when she's having a bad day; the more she can rest on bad days, the more common good days will be. And if he takes to piloting fighting well enough, they might not even need to wait for a good day at all.

i can do that.

He can carry her through the worst days. He can move her when she needs to be moved. He can.

He tries to get a hold of her hands again and lift them enough to see.

It's easier already; it's not automatic yet but it feels clearly like it could be.

Good.