[That grin-- there might've been a thought, a vague, amorphous wisp of a thing, of turning Fearless in, of using this strange, vibrant, thrumming connection against him. It's the kind of thing that some of the higher-ups would probably appreciate, while also being the sort of thing someone like Alvida would do. Weaponize the way this exasperating, frustrating, amazing guy smiled at Koby like he was the best thing in the galaxy, like he lit the stars and hung the moons.

The thought had made him sick. It still does, a pang of horror that Koby covers with a little huff of a laugh, following after Fearless, keeping a careful eye until he's seated, until he hasn't thwacked his head (again) on the underside of the bunk. There's not much room, but Koby's slight enough that when he slides into Fearless's welcoming, waiting lap, there's still enough space that he barely needs to duck. He does anyways, leaning down for another kiss, smiling against the answering grin.]

Well, you don't have to fill the whole four hours. [Smiling, leaning back a little to start unbuttoning his shirt.] We can take breaks. Talk. If -- you want to. [Koby's painfully aware that his ears are flushing deeper pink as he talks, that the blush is spreading over his cheeks, his neck.] I-I mean. I like talking to you too. Um. So.

Yeah.