The Exile bit her lip thoughtfully as they surveyed the beds in the port dormitory of the Ebon Hawk. Atton and Mira stood on either side of her as she crossed her arms and stared at the beds as if more would suddenly come into existence.
"This wouldn't be a problem if you stopped picking up every person who asks to join us," Atton pointed out grumblingly.
"Never mind that," the Exile said dismissively. "We just need to find a way to fit everyone despite being two beds short."
"We could always drop Disciple off back on Dantooine."
"Or," Mira said, rolling her eyes, "Atton could sleep in his chair in the cockpit, and I bet Bao-Dur would be willing to bunk in his garage, or something. He hardly leaves it, anyway."
"Before getting caught up in this mess, I hardly left the pazaak table. Doesn't mean I wanted to sleep there." Alright, so maybe he'd passed out there once or twice, but there hadn't been a lot of choice involved at the time.
"It could work," the Exile agreed with Mira slowly, considering it.
Atton eyed the beds and then the Exile, forming his own solution. He grinned wickedly at the visions playing out in his mind. "Or we could double up, you know. I'd be willing to share."
This is not what I had in mind, Atton thought darkly as he stared at the wall of the Hawk. He had his back to Mical, who was also lying in the bed, though Atton had taken meticulous care to be as far away from him as possible without actually rolling off the cot. He wasn't sure if his new bunkmate was asleep or not, and frankly, he didn't really care. He was too busy ruminating over the cruel twist of fate.
He had almost gotten whiplash from the double-take he did upon learning that he wasn't getting the bedmate he had hoped. He had been about to protest loudly and spend the night in the cockpit, as Mira had originally suggested, when the preferred bedmate herself had popped into the dormitories, beaming. His angry retorts had died in his throat as she kissed his cheek and told him how impressed she was with him for his generous offer of sharing his cot.
And, well, drokk it, how could he storm off after that? He'd make a habit from now on to stay in his seat in the cockpit, but he would suffer through one night. Just to show her he was damn generous.
So there he lay, listening to the soft, slumbering breathing of the other members of the Hawk, intensely wishing he could trade places with Mira and be curled up next to the Exile. He could feel Mical shift slightly, and gritted his teeth.
Maybe if I'm lucky, one of those Sith Lords will attack and put me out of my misery.