He snickers; the laughter, brief as it is, fades entirely when she speaks. Dejah can probably feel the familiar tension working through his fingers.

It's...less, though. He doesn't look like an animal on the verge of bolting. Not even one who's turning a wary eye to the landscape, listening for danger.

"Not yet," he says. A beat's hesitation. "Want to get breakfast and take it back to your room?"