Lalita stays up the rest of the night finishing the survey.

In her "morning", she observes that he has finished the job, thanks him, and proceeds towards the next system.

Lalita makes her breakfast and then goes to bed.

Isabella reads. She makes herself lunch.

When he wakes up, he makes her dinner.

"Thank you."

He shrugs.

There is more interstellar space between the last system and the next. They are not there yet when she goes to bed.

"Nothing new," he says hoarsely, sniffling. "You can ignore me if you want. I'm just gonna - " and he gets up and stumbles to the living quarters, where he curls up in bed to cry some more.

He buries his face in a pillow.

"If you would prefer not to speak to me that is also acceptable, but - I do not prefer that you be distressed."

"I've been distressed for days," he says, somewhat muffled by the pillow. "It's just coming out now."

"Can I help you?"

Still muffled: "I have no idea."

Isabella sits on the bed and puts her hand on his shoulder.

Lalita, still sobbing into his pillow, curls up close to her.

Isabella pets his hair, slowly, rhythmically.

Lalita snuggles her and cries.

"You have not previously observed me to make use of my ability to suppress my emotions," observes Isabella. "Is it that which is disturbing you?"

He doesn't answer. (Talking while crying is hard.)

Pet. Pet. She can wait.