Luckily for them, even a small ship like this was originally meant for a small crew, not a single person and his horrible little droid. They'll have the luxury of separate quarters which Rex privately thinks they both need; he's most comfortable when sleeping close to other people, but they're still relative strangers, and they'll both need some privacy while they get used to being around someone else again. "I suspect we'll be on the same page, but we can discuss what dictates being killed and what dictates being let go," he says. "But otherwise, I'm willing to trust your judgment. I usually take on protection gigs, transportation, that sort of thing. Can't trust anyone to be honest about who they want to kill or why, and I'm a soldier, not a murderer." He grabs one of his shirts and passes it to her. She'll swim in it, which will make it perfect for sleeping in. He doesn't bother letting her borrow his trousers, which would just look comical on her.

"Not that I haven't taken bounty jobs, but it'll get a lot easier when I have someone else around to help judge the situation. Last thing I want is to kill an innocent just because some sleemo wants him dead." As he slides open the door leading to the rest of the ship, a little astromech zips out, shrieking indignantly.

"Settle down, Rhoda!" He says sternly, tapping the side of her body with his foot. She shrieks even louder, buzzing at Anderson, an arm slowly coming out of one of her slots, as though to taze her. "She's an ally. Stop that. You really think that you could fight her off if I couldn't?"

She makes a sound that seems to suggest yes, she rather thinks so but retracts her arm anyway. A little embarrassed, he clears his throat and turns to Anderson. "This is, uh, R0-D4. Don't mind her. She'll warm up to you. Eventually."