She kisses him. Pulls his face close and holds him gently. "You're mine. Don't need to say anything. I just wanted you to know."

 He leans into her hands.

"Uh."

He clears his throat.

"Bit early for that, isn't it?" 

She doesn't roll her eyes, and just kisses the side of his mouth. "Do you want me to take it back?"

"I mean, not if you don't want to," he kisses the side of her mouth. 

"I don't," she responds, kissing him properly. "I love you and you don't need to say anything. My love isn't contingent on anything. Just is."

Kiss. He clears his throat, "Okay then. Uh. Moving on?" 

"Go check out the dorms? Make sure everything is comfortable and clean enough for us. I don't want to stay in the medbay for much longer."

And it'll give him some time to freak out in private.

"Oh, sure, yeah. See how they're laid out, move some stuff around. They're probably set up for crew style sleeping," he kisses her and then rolls out of the bed.

"Oh, water," he hands her the cup that was sat on the counter nearby, "And food," he hands that over too.

Her all consuming thirst makes itself known again.

Water.

Water! There is more available from the sink, if she turns the setting to water instead of sonic.

She'll be left alone for at least a few minutes, if she wants a bit of time to decompress. 

Yup. She refills her water a few times, pokes a little at her shoulder and just.... listens to the quiet thrum of the engines. Everything is fine. They're safe. Nobody can find them.

Peaceful.

"-THE FUCK!" 

Sharra is up and out of the medbay in the next moment. Blaster? He must have brought it —

If he did, it's probably on him. His voice continues to echo towards her from the starboard dormitory.

"-what kind of fucking Jedi bullshit is this."

Master?

Sharra is at his side, body aching and ALERT.

There is an old woman in the starboard dormitory, sat calmly upon one of the bunks, legs crossed, back straight. She wears a dark brown cloak over robes of a familiar kind, though perhaps not exactly the most standard style for a Jedi. 

At the foot of her bed, the 'protocol' droid HK-50 lies in pieces, cut cleanly in half by what could only be a lightsaber.

"-ah," says the intruder, interrupting her companion's latest flailing, "And here you are."

Atton makes a frustrated noise, high in his throat. He has his blaster out and pointed at the woman. 

Sharra itches to take his arm, step in front of him, guard. She doesn't, stays out of his way, clear of his blaster. He needs space.

"...I don't know you," she replies, moving to the side so they're not looking at Atton. Breaking the line of sight.

She folds her hands over each other, obligingly following her movement away from the boy.

"Are you sure?" 

Sharra stares, takes her in.

"I don't know you," she confirms.

"Mm. You will come to know me, then." She puts one hand to her chest, "I am called Kreia. I am an exile, like you."

"You're an undead Jedi is what you are," Atton growls, turning to Sharra, "She was definitely dead! Cold, not breathing, the whole shebang. She was in the morgue for three days." 

Eyes on the Jedi.

She continues focusing on Sharra.

"I spent those days in a death-like trance. This machine," she gestures to the droid at the foot of the bed, "Wished harm on myself, and on you. In order to survive my first encounter with it, I chose to let it believe it had killed me." 

"Kreia," she says. She resists the urge to look down at the droid. "The bounty?"