"Like what? This—" The tip of the lightsaber's hilt is pressed against the underside of his chin, faux threateningly. "Or—"

For a moment, Leia ignores the constant thrum of Force-sensitive minds looming at the edge of her awareness. The lightsaber drops to his chest, rolling off both him and the cot. It clatters to the floor as she presses a firm, quick kiss to his lips.

"Or something more like that?"