Matt was off like a shot as soon as he heard one prim little foot on the boarding ramp. He dove down the nearest hatch, then raced down the corridor in the opposite direction of the Falcon entryway as if his life depended on it. Or maybe his pride. Lydia had already caught him unawares, but like hell was he gonna let her have the satisfaction of knowing that.
Bursting into his quarters, Matt yanked his filthy shirt over his head before pausing in front of his small sink and mirror. The sight of himself made him cringe. Disheveled hair, grease stains all over his face and neck, and no time to properly clean them up. Without thinking, he swiped the shirt still in his hands over his face as he searched the pigsty that was his quarters for a shirt that was… well, not clean, laundry day was still a week away and nothing here was clean. Less obviously dirty would have to do. It took a couple sniffs to find something that didn’t smell like old sweat, but once that was done, Matt was out the door again, pulling the shirt down over his chest and rapidly beating heart.
Hearing Lydia yelling something about the boarding ramp and promptly ignoring it, he circled back around the way he came, toward the common area. There was no part of the ship that either he or Han considered “neutral” when it came to Lydia and Leia – too many memories, all mixed up – but at least the heart of the ship wasn’t cramped like the rest of the Falcon (or a certain closet) was cramped. Matt wasn’t stupid enough to corner Lydia twice, though if you wanted to get technical about it, that last time? Not his fault!
That’s not the real reason, though, is it, kid? Matt grimaced while he still had the freedom to do so without eliciting an all-knowing eyebrow raise from Her Worshipfulness herself. No, not wanting to be accused of engineering a situation where he and Lydia were forced to be up close and personal was not the real reason he’d chosen to lead her to the common area with a lazy shout of, “In here!” He needed the open space more than she did, probably. All the better to keep from making a fool of himself like he had at the party.
Because, as much as he’d wanted that kiss, for years, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the only thing it had done was make everything between them more complicated and infinitely harder to confront. Everything he remembered about Lydia told him that she was likely avoiding him as much as he was avoiding her whenever it was time for another mission debrief at the castle. The way things were going, Matt bet they could’ve gone years without seeing each other again, and he couldn’t quite convince himself that that wasn’t a bad thing. It could only end badly. It always did.
Which also made this little visit all the more strange. What could have possibly motivated Lydia to come all the way out here and talk to him alone? Gabe drove her here, the traitor; she could’ve asked him to stay. But she didn't. And he seriously doubted her feelings had changed so much that she actually wanted to talk to him. Couldn’t be anything good, he decided, so obviously it must be something terrible.
He swallowed hard as he glanced at the dejarik table (currently occupied with a sad potted cactus topped with a star and trimmed with red ribbon, his only Christmas decoration), then plopped down at the engineering station. Lydia’s footsteps were closer now – he only had seconds to make it look like he’d been here the whole time, not to mention completely unbothered that she was here. Grabbing a random part to tinker with, he leaned back and put his feet up on the console. That ought to bring back memories. Hopefully the kind that made that perfect control slip, just a little.
Matt schooled his face into something between neutral and amused as Lydia’s steps approached the common area. “Can't say I expected to see you here, Princess,” he called out breezily. “Someone take a wrong turn at Albuquerque?”