“You look like you need a nap... or a small coma.”
He drops his head into his arms, muffling a small groan.
“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles, refusing to look up for another moment. It’s dark inside the nest of his arms. He can almost pretend he’s asleep. He almost does sleep. He wants to. He knows he wouldn’t get in trouble for it. People would understand. But at the same time, there’s just so much to be done. The longer the war stretches, the more work there is for the Jedi. If they slack off, people get hurt. That’s unacceptable. It’s with that thought that he pushes himself up, scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I’ve just got a nasty case of hyper-lag. I’m okay, I promise.” He shakes himself to lucidity and stands up, stretching his arms.
“But enough about me. Did you need anything?”