"Haat, ijaa, haa'it, ner'verd," he murmurs, soft and unshakable. They've made promises before, when they first decided to go to war together, when the Mando words were still sharp-edged and new in his mouth. This time, it feels different. This time it means more.

In the mirror, Jedao's reflection pulls back a little, rises up - as though on tiptoe, though of course his feet are out of view - enough to press a silent kiss to Fives' forehead where it's still resting against the glass, the image slightly smudged on the other side by steam that doesn't exist.