When he has the tune, he hums along, for a little while. Legs overlapped, one hand in hers. Part of him wants to fight sleep, an instinctive rebellion against returning to darkness. But it's been a long day. He's genuinely tired, worn out from others' worry, from the news of the murders, from uneasiness over his own disappearance.

Laying with her like this is like an early morning on Yavin, when the jungle goes quiet and the ranch animals haven't properly woken up. Peaceful.

It takes a bit, but finally, he falls asleep.