Three times Meetra had to deflect someone from barging in on Atton's desperately needed nap. First, it was Mira - looking for a change of clothes after their sparring match. She only huffed a laugh at the Jedi's explanation, and Meetra decided to pretend not to hear her muttered suggestion to join him as the huntress stalked away.

Then it was Kreia. She was more insistent, demanding her solitude for her meditation. At Meetra's suggestion to try the garage, as Bao-dur was acting as pilot in the scoundrel's absence, she relented, but it was a little harder to ignore the old Jedi's comment that she would need to clean her bedding after he'd used it.

Finally it was T3. His beeps and clicks indicated he was following a path of faulty wiring, but after careful questioning and ensuring it was nothing immediately dangerous, she diverted him to Bao-dur's latest project.

Once it hit the six and a half hour mark, there was a crash, followed by frantic fumbling. Meetra swept herself into a defensive stance as she reached for the door controls, not entirely sure what to expect until-

-until the door slid open, sending Atton toppling out directly onto Meetra. The swirl of motion all happened so quickly she couldn't control her reflexes until she heard him hit the wall with a dull thud.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry-" he tried to push himself off of the wall, but only succeeded in slipping and fumbling again. It took a bit, but once he settled in place, chest heaving, she could see how puffy his eyes were with sleep. She couldn't help a smirk.

"Feeling better?"

His mouth opened and closed a few times.

"I didn't, ah- I didn't mean to, to stay so...so long, or..."

"...at all?" She finished for him with a quirked brow. He frowned.

"Not really, no," he smoothed a hand down the loose sleep shirt he wore, eyes on his feet. She noticed he wasn't slouching like he had been.

"I'm sorry if I put you out, I tried to only sleep for an hour, but I took a shower before I laid down and-"

"Mira would be impressed," Meetra crossed her arms over her chest and waited for the glare. She was not disappointed.

"You know, I'm not sure why no one on this ship believes that I have a sense of personal hygiene, but I do keep myself clean-"

"Just not shaven," her smile was true this time as she reached out to feel the scruff at his cheek. She wasn't sure why she did it, or why she expected him to flinch away. But he didn't. "It's quite the look."

"That a fact?" His smile matched hers quickly enough. "Didn't think you'd have a preference."

"Oh, on an 'irresistible' guy like you?" She let her hand fall to her side, but her fingers tingled with lingering sensation. He looked sheepish.

"Yeah, well...you're not exactly an open book."

"No," she agreed, crossing her arms over her chest again, "that's something we have in common."

He chuckled.

"Hungry?"

"Starving," he clutched at his stomach and for a moment she thought she could hear a rumbling as he bumped her with an elbow. "Can I treat you to a fresh nutrient pouch?"

"Such a gentleman."

"Don't insult me," and she couldn't help really laughing at that. He elbowed his way past her and she fell in step behind, still giggling, still getting daggers looked at her occasionally. The stiffness in her back was gone.

She felt the smile claim his features more than she saw it.