She watched him, because what else could she do? He was here, and so close, and still none of this felt quite real, like any moment now, she would wake up alone in bed. While he did feature prominently in her dreams, though, even all this time later, they were never like this. The kinder ones were of Scarif, dreams after which she usually felt ill upon waking but changed nothing. The truly torturous ones were the dreams where they were together and happy. Those were worse than any nightmare. She knew all of the awful things she'd experienced in her life; that was fine, a simple fact of being, something she'd long since come to terms with. Being reminded of the happiness she'd once had and lost was agonizing.

Besides, no matter how well she knew him, she didn't think memory or imagination or any of that could really do him justice. However difficult to believe, it had to be real, which meant she had to figure out what the hell to do about it.

"You sure that's enough?" she asked, brow raising with some combination of concern and amusement at the way he'd all but chugged the water down. "Shower's that way. I'll see if I can find something for you that's not a cape."