He returns it, if not so much in words.

This is so nice. It's good to have nice things again.

It's so good.

(If they're lucky–if everything turns out fine–if she never has to leave–they can have this, at least, forever.)

Sith are pretty good at getting what we want, usually.

That's definitely a good thing.

They should eat breakfast and such, at some point.

It really doesn't feel like a priority, though.

No, it doesn't. Food is secondary at this point.

(He is hungry now, though.)

On the other hand, feeding him is also nice. She hits the comm: "Daisy, can we have breakfast, please?" (It's really nice to be able to talk, too.)

And, shortly, there is breakfast. It's ship food, but she's not complaining.

Ship food is still food!

He thanks Daisy and eats happily when he's fed, just like before.

He's so good. This is so good.

    "We'll be touching down in an hour," Daisy tells them when she comes to get the tray.

He nods.

"...what's this planet like?"

"It's a Dorfu colony - they're near-humans, semi-aquatic, not particularly remarkable - and reasonably well built up; the city we'll be landing in is called Vroria, and it's known for its architecture, baked goods, and aqua base team. It's winter there, and the planet is cold to begin with, but you won't need to go out in it; the hospital has a hangar."

(Ooh, baked goods and architecture.)

"...we might have to go out in the cold to get pastries."

Pastries seem like a stupid thing to care about, right now, but god, does he.

"I'm sure they can be delivered."

Nod.

they're not going to

take us, when we land, or anything.

right?

They won't get very far if they try.

...right. She's back, now. Nobody can touch her.

(Except him. He's touching her right now.)

(He is, it's pretty great.)

Not going to let anything happen to you. Mine.

yours.

He can stay in this space with her until they start to land.

She gets them dressed - the bundle turns out to be pants and shirts, embroidered with stars and circles at the hems, and they fit him well enough; conveniently she likes her clothing cut a little long - but skips the refresher; the shipboard one really isn't big enough for two.

And then, soon enough, they arrive. The Dorfu - slightly shorter than humans, with slit nostrils on a slight muzzle, shockingly blue eyes, lightly webbed fingers, and an odd silvery sheen to their hair - have a stretcher ready, and five hoverchairs; two of the hoverchair guides approach as the rest file onto the ship.

Pradnakt makes a face at them.

They back off, and one abandons his chair to approach, stopping to bow before he gets too close. "My apologies, Lord Pradnakt. Your room is this way."

She follows, Force senses active to check their surroundings. The first bank of rooms are medical - surgical suites, testing rooms, something like a gymnasium, a large pool and a handful of smaller ones with odd machinery ringing them - and she holds him close and reminds him that she won't let them do anything to him. Then they start passing patients' wings, and - there's enough of them that it's a bit of a blur, she doesn't see any individual in enough detail unless she looks, but she can tell what's wrong with them, automatically. (Liver failure; viral infection; allergic reaction; complicated interspecies pregnancy...)

As they come to the end of the section, their guide turns into a slightly smaller hallway which leads to a room that, at first glance, would look more at home in a fancy hotel than a hospital. There's a queen-sized bed, made up with crisp white sheets and a navy comforter, a carved wooden dining table with four matching chairs and a round fishtank full of aquatic plants for a centerpiece, a desk with its own chair, paintings on the walls, a view of a snow-covered park out the window.

He stays very, very close to her through the first wing, tries not to look with her outside their own mind.

Patients are easier. They all...well, not all of them, but most of them have problems that just happened to them, weren’t inflicted by someone else. That used to scare him much more than the alternative, he knows. It’s reassuring, right now.