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( warning: mature content )
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The interior of the Razor Crest is all too familiar and overwhelmingly comforting; as soon as Zoya enters, its ambiance spreads a soft, warm blanket around her shoulders, luring a sleepy yawn from her mouth that she hadn't realized she was withholding. Din, still holding her in a type of dramatic-unconscious-maiden way that she simultaneously despises and relaxes into, carries her deeper into the ship, away from the cockpit and where the Frog Lady had gone.
"What—" Zoya begins to say, back stiffening as she tries to sit up. However, wrapped in his arms, legs dangling feet from the ground, this proves to be rather impossible.
"You're resting," he explains, as if it is a fact she should've known, already anticipating her confusion. His voice is gentle, but firm, ready for a protest, and though Zoya automatically feels words rising to her tongue to argue, for once she allows them to drown.
"Okay," she mumbles, and pillows her head back against the curve of his chest. The beskar there is hard and unyielding, but despite this cold exterior, she finds that the man underneath is not.
A surprised laugh, short and quiet, escapes his helmet. It rumbles in his chest, low and amused, and it almost feels as if his mouth is against her ear due to their proximity.
"What?" Zoya says drowsily, fighting another yawn and the fluttering feeling that comes to life within her stomach.
His shoulders shift slightly in what must be an attempt at a shrug. "I expected you to argue."
"Not today."
Din carries her to a small room typically used as crew quarters that he'd converted into a cargo hold; it's empty, save a small bed set up in the corner, blankets piled haphazardly atop the thin mattress—a mattress that Zoya remembers for its uncanny ability to feel like a piece of metal. At the sight, her head lifts, and some of the fatigue clears from her eyes. There are papers stuck to the wall, notes scrawled across their crinkled surfaces. And in the corner, a bundle of bloodstained clothes.
"You didn't . . ." Zoya's eyes make out the pair of pants in the corner, unwearable and frayed where one of the legs is cut off. Her heartbeat's rhythm increases, and she wonders if he can feel it through his armor.
