He sat still another moment. Then, he quietly handed her his jacket. Under cover of that exchange (from, again, any outside eyes) he reholstered his blaster.

"Having just seen you fight," he said softly, "I knew I wouldn't be able to hold my own against you, hand-to-hand."

Admitting which was potentially a surrender. They were equally unarmed now.

He was going against every protocol he'd ever had.

His hands, now empty, rested on his knees. He turned one over palm-upward, toward her, silently asking for his jacket back.