As soon as he was gone down the hall, the sound of the door confirming that she was alone for the moment, Jyn let out a heavy breath, feeling like she'd been holding it in since she first glimpsed him there. She stayed like that for what must have been an embarrassingly long time, hands curled into fists so tight that her blunt nails left impressions on her palms, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping her composure. Now that she had a few moments of privacy, that shouldn't have been so much of a concern, but she knew that if she let herself fall apart now, she probably wouldn't stop. Whatever she had to tell him, and there was so much, too much, she didn't want that to be the how or the why of it. For his sake more so than anything else, she had to keep it together now.
When she did finally let herself move, she let instinct carry her. One step, then the next. Keep going, keep moving. For so long, that had been just about the only thing that kept her alive. Somehow, although this was hardly a matter of life and death, the stakes here felt just as high. All the while, she listened to the distant sound of the water running, relieved when she heard it shut off, as if that served as confirmation that he was still here.
In the meantime, she scrounged up clothes. The T-shirt was hers, but it was large and it was clean, and he didn't need to know that it was hers. Rifling through a few drawers in compartments she hadn't been using ultimately paid off, yielding trousers and a pair of boxers. They might have been Poe's, or Han's, or even Rey's boyfriend's, so many people who'd been here and gone, but these, too, were clean, and most importantly, they weren't part of an Imperial uniform.
At the sound of her name, of his voice, she jumped, then internally chided herself for it. "Be right there," she called, hurrying back to the shower, pile of clothes in hand. There was one small mercy: Whatever part of her might have been flustered by the knowledge that he'd just used her shower, that he was wearing only towels, it was overridden by the fact that she'd grown up in a cadre of soldiers without much in the way of privacy. Bodies were just bodies. His just happened to be a very familiar one.
"Bonfire's on," she said, careful to look only at his face as she held the clothes out to him. "I found some things you can wear. Not sure about the size, but hopefully they'll do for now."
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When she did finally let herself move, she let instinct carry her. One step, then the next. Keep going, keep moving. For so long, that had been just about the only thing that kept her alive. Somehow, although this was hardly a matter of life and death, the stakes here felt just as high. All the while, she listened to the distant sound of the water running, relieved when she heard it shut off, as if that served as confirmation that he was still here.
In the meantime, she scrounged up clothes. The T-shirt was hers, but it was large and it was clean, and he didn't need to know that it was hers. Rifling through a few drawers in compartments she hadn't been using ultimately paid off, yielding trousers and a pair of boxers. They might have been Poe's, or Han's, or even Rey's boyfriend's, so many people who'd been here and gone, but these, too, were clean, and most importantly, they weren't part of an Imperial uniform.
At the sound of her name, of his voice, she jumped, then internally chided herself for it. "Be right there," she called, hurrying back to the shower, pile of clothes in hand. There was one small mercy: Whatever part of her might have been flustered by the knowledge that he'd just used her shower, that he was wearing only towels, it was overridden by the fact that she'd grown up in a cadre of soldiers without much in the way of privacy. Bodies were just bodies. His just happened to be a very familiar one.
"Bonfire's on," she said, careful to look only at his face as she held the clothes out to him. "I found some things you can wear. Not sure about the size, but hopefully they'll do for now."