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Quinn was taking inventory when Arlys came stumbling in. She groaned and sprawled sideways in a chair, her legs dangling over the armrest.
“Quinn. Quinn,” she said.
“My Lord, what are you doing up? You should be resting.” He barely looked up from his datapad.
“You don’t understand, Quinn. I think I’m dying.”
“You aren't dying. You just have a cold.”
“I don’t like it,” she groaned melodramatically. “Let’s just land on some forsaken planet so I can punch something.”
“You nearly collapsed on the battlefield already. I thought you agreed to spend some time sleeping?”
“Yeah, but it's so boring!”
Quinn sighed and finally turned to face her. “If I come with you, will you at least try to rest?”
She groaned, leaning back farther in her chair as she stared up at the ceiling. “Fine,” she agreed grudgingly.
Arlys was a warm weight on his chest as Quinn sat in bed with his datapad hoping to get at least some work done. She wrapped one arm around him and squeezed gently, rubbing her cheek against his chest. No doubt this would all end with him catching her cold. He looked down at her and sighed. When had he become so fond of this Sith? He ran a hand over her arm absently and went back to reading. When she began to snore he nearly dropped the datapad on her in surprise. A smile tugged at his lips as he began combing his fingers through her hair. With another sigh, he put the datapad aside, wrapped his arms around her, and decided to use the opportunity to get some rest as well.