Something in her chest twists when he moves to the side, like he's answered a question she hasn't been able to work up the nerve to ask. Jyn isn't sure she ever would have, either, though seeing the slim, empty stretch of bed, she thinks it's what she really wanted when she walked over here. That, too, seems nothing but foolish, unnecessary, but she isn't going to fight him now. At least this way, she can pretend that it's for his sake, something he wanted, and not just a way of slowing her racing heart, of re-convincing herself that he's alright, alive and whole.

She can't speak for him, but she's beginning to think that, in her case, it isn't the damage done physically that she's going to have to worry about.

"If I ever reach that point, you should just put me out of my misery," she says wryly, tone a little too light for a joke about him killing her, though it's probably true. She'd have to be damn close to death to be able to pass up food anyway. "You'd be doing me a favor." Not waiting for a response, she pushes back the blankets to crawl in beside him. There isn’t much room on the narrow hospital bed, but she takes up as little of it as she can, lying down at the very edge of the mattress, curled up on her side and facing him, close enough to feel the warmth coming from his skin but very deliberately not quite close enough to touch. Earlier, it hadn’t stopped her — nothing could have — but there is, in her mind, a very clear line between embracing him when she hadn’t known if she would see him again and presumptuously settling against him in bed at night, a boundary that she won’t cross. He’s hurt, anyway, and she doesn’t want to aggravate any injuries, make anything that happened to him — on her account — worse. This is enough. She still doubts she’ll sleep, but at least she’ll know he’s safe, and at least she won’t be alone.