An unwilling part of her very nearly relaxed as she made her way further into the ship in pursuit of her ex, a tension in between her shoulder blades that she kept almost as a point of pride threatening to release before she ordered it back into its natural clench. Even after two years, this place had a very inconvenient way of reminding Lydia what she desperately tried to forget now. As much as he drove her crazy in the process, with Matt (and with the Falcon), Lydia had always felt free.
Not all the time, but enough that it seemed significant. Being part of Camelot and especially being an Evans meant that even under the best of circumstances, her duties were never very far from her mind, but in between their frequent arguments and the making up that always followed, there were also moments of real peace. Most of them had been in here. Times when Lydia didn't have a role to play and dropped her guard, when she was just a little bit more herself without all the rest that came with it and less of the ice cold princess that had earned her such a reputation in the castle. That version of herself in their relationship was hard for Lydia to think about now, and so she forcibly pushed it from her mind and steeled herself as she followed the sound of Matt's voice.
The sight she was met with shouldn't have taken her by surprise, but it did. Something about the image of him vaguely disheveled and propped up the way he was, fiddling around with some ship part, it invoked at least fifteen different memories right out of the gate that Lydia couldn't immediately reckon with. How many times had she seen him exactly like this? Too many to count, and Lydia was trying really hard not to.
Seeing him like that, the ice she normally wore as a shield thawed, just for a moment. Everything about the scene in front of her was familiar in a surprisingly not unpleasant way, for both of them. Break ups were hard enough when it was just you, but when you were sharing it with another person inside your own head? Practically impossible, and in that single moment, she felt Leia's longing as much as her own. This was a mistake, and she'd known it. The Falcon was full of too many memories to be comfortable here, everywhere Lydia looked there was something.
Remembering at least one instance of getting carried away with each other right about where he was lounging, she felt her cheeks grow warm before Lydia forced her expression back to something more safely neutral. That was unacceptable, and she was usually very good at burying herself in work to the point of total distraction. Not lately. Not since that kiss. And especially not when her work directly involved Matt, which she could usually avoid considering their blissfully separate departments.
Damnitt, Daniel.
Posture straightening after a noticeable pause inside the opening, for once Lydia ignored the princess barb though her eyes did briefly narrow suspiciously. He was acting far too casual about her unexpected visit. Still, Lydia made her way over to the dejarik table, willing herself not to think about the memory involving that. "I don't know why you insist on living out in the desert like a nomad. There have to be more geographically convenient places to park." Lydia responded coolly, though absent her usual venom when she was trying to provoke Matt into a shouting match. Of course she didn't know any, and she wasn't about to suggest Camelot for likely the same reasons he would never consider it.
Slowly taking a seat facing him, Lydia eyed the sad little festive cactus. Christmas was days away, and despite all of the usual bustle in the castle, Lydia had barely noticed this year. Good, focus on that, and not on the fact that the last time you saw this man you were kissing him in a broom closet, Lydia thought to herself fiercely as she shrugged off her outer coat. It was warm enough inside the ship that she could survive in a blouse, and she'd rather not give her body anymore incentive to inconveniently flush from heat. "Love what you've done with the place..."