Jyn isn't sure why it's so unexpected, the arm over her shoulders, but for just a moment, she goes stock-still, not even letting out the breath she'd taken. It isn't much of anything, really; he'd held her closer than this as they waited to die on Scarif, and she'd all but thrown herself at him when she first found him here, running on too much adrenaline to try to keep a distance. Then, though, it had been light in here and she'd still been on her feet, barely able to hold her as they might have been. Lying in bed together seems like something else entirely, though she knows it couldn't be. Maybe he just needs this — an assurance of their safety — as much as she does. Maybe she needs to stop thinking and try to relax.

Exhaling slowly, she inches carefully closer to him, just enough to let her head rest on his shoulder. If nothing else, after dying in his arms, she feels better being near him like this, a reminder of the peace she'd finally felt at the end. Jyn thinks he might have had something to do with that, though she doesn't see how she could ever say so. They're both here already. She doesn't need to.

"I don't either," she admits, reaching over without pulling away for where she set down the remote, careful of her IV line as she does. It takes her a moment to find the button to power it on; the screen blinks to life once she does, casting dim blue light into the dark room, the sound already thankfully turned low. "Maybe we'll get lucky and there'll be something halfway decent."