(no subject)

Things haven't been right for days. It's an odd, awful feeling, knowing that and not knowing what to do about it beyond what she's tried so far. Asking Cassian what's wrong has yielded vague, at least seemingly evasive answers, and though she can let him know that she's around if he needs to talk, it isn't as if she can make him. Jyn has found herself mostly torn because of it, wanting to be around in case he does decide to talk to her, thinking she should put some distance between them, reminded too much of when they first got here and he never seemed to really want to tell her anything about himself. Pulling away before he gets a chance to would be easier. Most of her instincts are telling her to do exactly that. She can't quite bring herself to, though, maybe because she's so convinced that something must be really wrong.

For now, though, it's left her painfully restless. Tonight isn't the first she's laid in bed and stared at the ceiling for a couple of hours. This time, she gives up easily, scrawling a quick note and leaving it on her side of the bed for Cassian to find if he wakes up, then getting dressed and going out for a run. It's gotten chilly, the air brisk, but she likes that about it. It makes her feel more grounded, somehow, tethered in a way she might not be otherwise.

Though she doesn't intend to end up at the cemetery, she isn't altogether surprised when she does. At least there's a decent chance that she'll find some company here. "Hey, Spike," she calls, "you around?"