Mandalore stood quietly, listening to the Exile's words and smiling to himself. It had been so long since he had been as close to anyone as he was to the woman before him. She understood him -- his duties as a Mandalore, the Mandalorian culture, he had revealed more of his history to her than he had told even Revan...hell, she even tolerated his brusque, hard personality.
His hand slid from her shoulder, tracing down her arm and taking her hand. He spun the chair around a bit, and pulled her to her feet.
"Tysy," Canderous said, and he reached up to a joint at the edge of the aromor on his neck, and flipped something. There was a hiss of releasing pressure, and he pulled the helm of Mandalore from his head so he could look her full in the eye. "You know I'm with you."