"Elara, is everything alright?" Aric asks quietly. She's sitting, the lights are dim and she's obviously been crying. It's a stupid question and Aric realizes that immediately after he says it. He sits down next to her and Elara leans her head against his shoulder.
"I'm tired," she says, but she isn't talking about physical exhaustion and they both know it- battle fatigue caused by running from conflict to conflict- a unit of Havoc's caliber is hard to find, so they just sit, Elara's head against Aric's shoulder, his arm around her waist, comfortable in each other's company.
Aric presses a kiss to her temple.
"When this is all over, you, me, and Jem, we're going on a vacation; sea and sand and drinks and you won't have to lift a finger the whole time." He murmurs into her hair and she laughs a little, knowing he means it, knowing he'll be unable to deliver, but that's not the point. She threads their fingers together.
"We can build a sandcastle," Elara suggests, "Or play volleyball."
"Look for seashells." Aric says, smiling at her. She squeezes his hand- a silent little 'i love you' and he returns the gesture.