2:41am

Daeria Alecto frowned and sat upright in her bedroll. The move to the cargo hold had seemed like a good idea initially. It certainly was quiet, but it had yet to improve her sleep patterns. It seemed that her nights began to lengthen when Mical joined the crew just over three weeks ago. Atton Rand had bristled at Mical from their very first meeting. She recalled how his eyes had narrowed and how sharply his temper had flared. It was an anger born of deep insecurity the moment he sensed her reaction to the polite, blonde physician. The bond between Master and Disciple was instantaneous, almost like they'd known each other their entire lives.

The Exile's brow furrowed. In the weeks since, Atton's anxiety had blossomed into a very full and dangerous jealousy. He watched her the way a scorned lover might, stealing glances and hiding in the shadows when she worked with the young doctor. What worried her most of all was that he either didn't think to or didn't care to conceal his feelings and as such, she sensed him every time. It was unlike Atton to be so careless, it was fundamental to his nature to protect himself.

Daeria stood, stretching briefly and pulled on her knee-length, brown leather boots.
Attempting to sleep was useless. Grabbing a burgundy outer robe, she pulled it on over her under tunic and leggings. Sliding her hands under her unbound, white-blonde hair, she flipped it out over her collar. Running her hands carefully over the few, small braids she wore she felt the black and blue crystals that adorned them, making sure that they hadn't tangled.

The tension between her students was reaching a fevered pitch and her agitation was spiking right along with it. Atton had spent the bulk of the day trying to pick fights with Mical and growing increasingly frustrated when his attempts failed. The young doctor parried his attempts easily enough with words but she could sense his underlying frustration. He continued to offer kindness to Atton, no matter how often he was rebuffed, but the young Master wondered how much longer he would be able to control his irritation.

Moving to the exit and into the corridor, it occured to her that the behaviour of her young Padawans only confirmed what she feared the most. The longer they were exposed to her, the more tied they became. Worst of all, the bond seemed to be mostly baseless. It was like they'd each created their own fantasy of who she was and reacted to her accordingly. Atton had been almost completely self-sufficient when they'd met, using considerable charm and cunning to get what he needed. Now it seemed that his happiness and sense of worth depended solely on her good opinion.
Any time away, any focus on anyone else and his emotions would cascade, a waterfall of envy,
insecurity, anger and wariness. It was nothing short of unnatural, it permeated the entire ship and exhausted the Exile.

Passing the Medical Bay, she thought of Mical. He was the opposing side of the same coin, not insecure, but he placed the young master on an almost stratospheric pedestal. In his mind, she was the most perfect being in all creation and incapable of any wrong. Bao Dur was similar, but less open in his opinion. He still insisted on calling her "General", his tone reverential and he'd made it clear that he'd happily follow her to his death. It was like he'd never heard of the Shadow Generator, like the disaster that had occurred at her hand was barely worth mention. The abnormality of it was subtle, easy to overlook when dealing with Atton, but it was there. Both were men of science and logic. When dealing with everyone else, they were perfectly balanced.

It was her.

The cursed bond had affected each Padawan, overriding their natural instincts and blinding them to who she really was. They either couldn't or wouldn't see her as the very flawed human that she was. It made her temper simmer continually and their attempts to please her only added to her annoyance. It seemed that the only beings aboard who truly treated her fairly appeared to be comprised mostly of metal. The droids and Mandalore.

The droids didn't surprise her, but Mandalore certainly did. He was the only organic, sentient being aboard the Hawk who seemed to be completely unaffected by her presence. He'd been grouchy and combative with her from the start, harshly critical of her leadership style and utterly unafraid to argue with her. At times in the beginning, it had nearly come to blows. Eventually she just avoided him, getting tasks completed with minimal fuss, but as they continued on their journey, contact had increased once more. Mandalore was unavoidable and just as cantankerous as ever but she couldn't deny that he was fair. Her style had garned positive results quickly and while he never admitted that his initial assessment of her was wrong, he'd slowly and openly demonstrated an increased trust in her. For her part, the Exile's attitude had undergone a full reversal from the beginning. It was liberating to deal with someone who truly saw her for who she was. Instead of anger, she was relieved when he brought things to her attention, pleased whenever he flatly told her she was wrong and took a secret delight in their arguments.

In that moment, it occurred to The Exile that she actually quite liked him. Grinning to herself,
she briefly wondered how the big Mandalorian would react if he knew. Biting her lip, she stifled a laugh. No doubt, he'd be furious.

Entering the main hold, she paused in mid-step. It appeared that Mandalore was still awake,
but for the first time ever she saw a bare, rough hand scratching the back of a silver head, shot with fine, black strands. Her eyes widened. She never witnessed him out of armour before.
His metal shell was such a constant that she'd not really viewed him as a man in quite some time.
When she thought of the crew, generally she saw two groups. Atton, Mical, Bao, Visas and Mira in one, Mandalore, HK and T3 in the other. He sensed her presence almost immediately. Straightening he turned and raised one scarred brow, his grey eyes boring straight into her.

Leaning against the door frame she took a moment to truly see him. Even without the metal, he was huge, standing at least a head taller than Atton. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed and powerfully muscled from head to toe. He wore a black, sleeveless undertunic, sand coloured pants and thickly soled black boots that appeared to be plated with durasteel. His left upper arm appeared to be marked with a tattoo, though it was difficult to pick out the detail from where she stood. He was older as she'd suspected, his face marked with battle at the brow and near his mouth, but surprisingly handsome.

"What are YOU doing up?" he grunted, obviously annoyed at being caught without his helm.

She moved to where he stood, crossing her arms and shooting him a cocky, half-smile, "Couldn't sleep," she replied casually, "But this is good. I was beginning to wonder if you were all droid under there."

The big Mandalorian sneered, subtly pushing his hips towards her, "Better make sure, Princess,"
he snapped, "Why don't you put your face down there and take a closer look."

The Exile barked a short, sharp laugh, feeling both a flush of heat and an undercurrent of relief at having the moment shattered. When cornered, Mandalore was all spines and sharp edges and this time she'd really caught him at a disadvantage. True to form, he'd tried to knock her off balance verbally almost immediately. The Exile felt a smoldering delight in the pit of her stomach, he'd succeeded, but she'd never let him know. The real trick with Mandalore was to not let him get away with anything. To hold the Manadalorian's respect, she'd learned to respond quickly, taking his attempts to a completely different level and beating him at his own game. Leaning in close, she planted a small kiss on his cheek, on the space just before his ear. "Asshole..." she whispered, moving past him carefully and squeezing one of his powerful buttocks as she went. Biting down her laughter, she quickly exited the hold. It wasn't necessary to look back over her shoulder, his stunned silence said it all.