still putting together that script
[Refugee Landing Pad]
They step out into the square, and are given an establishing shot of the area beyond the landing pad.
Atton: Well, here we are. Over there are the docks, the entertainment, and the refugee sector.
Cela: Atton, where do you think we should start?
Atton, surprised/put on the spot: You're asking me? It’s not like I’m an expert on the pla...
As he speaks, he notices something off to the side, and pulls Cela in with an arm around her shoulders, concealing it from her line of sight and marching them both away from what he saw.
Atton: Actually, good call. I think we should go this way.
This is the boldest contact Atton's taken with her, and Cela's thoughts stutter in their tracks as she lets him lead them away. Atton glances back; the two twi'leks he'd noticed are gone, disappeared into the refugee sector, and he breathes a sigh of relief.
Then he comes back to himself, notices he's holding Cela, and quickly lets go of her with an apologetic grin.
Atton: Uh, sorr—
Cela, rebooting, latching onto the first thing she sees: Oh! There's the droid we're looking for. Good thinking, Atton.
Cela promptly goes up to the merchant, contact seemingly forgotten. Left behind, Atton's surprise turns into a small half-smile (“She doesn’t let anything distract her from her objective, does she?”) before it turns down into a conflicted grimace (“If she turns that on me, it’ll make things complicated”). Ahead of him, Cela browses the merchant’s wares without really seeing what she’s looking at; her face is slightly flushed.
[Atton and Bao-Dur’s “I was just wondering if you thought, maybe, she and I might—” cutscene]
Later, Atton's looking at the tiebreaker card Cela gave him, spinning it over in one hand with an almost-flourish. Cela enters; Atton quickly puts his propped-up feet back down and sits up in his chair, hiding the card.
Atton, putting on a grin: Hey! What are you doing here?
Cela: Oh—Atton. I didn't know you were here. I was just looking for something.
Atton: Oh yeah? Need a hand?
Cela, a little embarrassed to admit it: I was just looking for a moment of quiet.
Atton, casual: Co-pilot's seat is open if you want it. No hum of the engine to worry about, and you won't even know I'm here.
She takes the seat, a little stiffly. She's somewhat uncertain about where she stands with him after everything earlier.
Cela: I'm surprised you're still here. Everyone else is asleep.
Atton: Yeah, well...
Cela: Are you feeling better?
Atton, kind of incredulous after she’d already asked him that twice back at the secret academy, like "are you really on this again": Since Telos? Yeah, I'm fi—
Cela: Since landing.
Cela: You've felt... on edge, since we arrived.
Atton, a little bitter/rueful: And you know all about how I feel, do you?
Cela: I know what I see.
Atton: Look. I appreciate the attention, but you don't have to worry about me. Really.
Atton: If I'm tense, it's just the Exchange. Once you get their attention, well—things could go wrong, fast.
Cela falls quiet, not really wanting to pursue that line of thought. Her head's full of too many thoughts already—of Atris, of the trial, of her exile—and what she'd really been looking for was an escape from her own mind.
Cela: Earlier... you weren't serious about this being your chambers. Were you?
Atton, shrugs: It might as well be.
Cela: It can't be comfortable to sleep here.
Atton: Don't knock it till you try it. These seats recline.
She tries it; they do. She looks up through the wide viewport before them, at the expansive Nar Shaddaa cityscape shining with bright lights under the night sky. Isolated from the reality outside, one can almost forget the grime and desperation lying underneath.
She closes her eyes.
Atton: Hey, Jedi...
Atton: I never said anything about the card, after all the trouble it took to get it. So, uh... thanks. For the card.
Atton: I'm not handing it back if you decide you don't like losing to me, though.
Atton looks over the dividing barrier between them, only to find that she’s asleep. He's disappointed, but also relieved: that “thanks” was far from his best work. He looks at her for a moment longer, and sighs.
Atton: You know how I feel, huh?
Atton: Then you know something I don't.
He leaves a blanket over her shoulders, a gesture just impersonal enough to be deniable, and stays up looking at the view alone.