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He turns his back to her but the swish of the doors opening never comes. She's still standing there; it doesn't feel like she's moved yet. He doesn't know what he wants - for her to stay, in the quiet or to leave him in peace.
She approaches him and he's even more at a loss than ever.
Her hand hovers over his shoulder. He lets some of the tension go, shoulders not quite slumping. Anyone else, he would have shot for coming so close. She doesn't put her hand on his shoulder as he expects. Her arms wrap around his waist, her body pressing against his back and she nuzzles gently, carefully between his shoulder blades (somehow, she avoids touching his lekku and he's grateful for that).
He ignores the instinctive desire to tense up again. He can't remember ever feeling safe with another person; not so safe that he could allow them to touch his back without expecting a knife. Touch was for bribery, for blackmail, for threatening.
Her cheek against his back isn't threatening. It's terrifying. Trust, hers and his own, frightens him more than just about anything he's faced, with the exception of losing Balmorra, especially after finding out the only other person he'd come close to trusting had betrayed him. He may never see entirely eye to eye with her but at least she'll never lie to him.
It feels good too, in it's own way. Some of tension he'd been carrying around has eased, some of the anger has drained (he's never been good at letting go, the anger is more useful than peace). Now, there's a lightness he's never experienced before. He likes it.
He stands, taking in the cool air and mechanical hum he's come to associate with life on a ship and lets her hold him.