"With luck, it's just the mopping-up now," Arche sighs out, and lets his eyes fall closed again, as they're begging to now that he's horizontal. If spending a large chunk of his life among the Sith and hopping between battlefields has taught him anything, it's how to steal a moment of sleep when and wherever he can, and he's never been more ready for it than he is right now. It takes almost no time at all for him to fall into slumber; deeper than he'd like while exposed around so many people, but at least Eleven's trustworthy presence is still there as he drifts off. And there's -- probably no one among this crew who'd deem it necessary to stab him in his sleep, hopefully. Well. Maybe Five.

Still -- one out of twenty or thirty. Much better odds than the good old Academy.

It's this wry thought that accompanies him off into exhausted, dreamless slumber at last.