That may be the difference between a lone warrior and a general in a thousand-strong army. Ben lost any inclinations towards physical modesty a long time ago. But he shanges while she's changing, his volumnous robes folded and set upon his chair, the armor - what there is of it because Jedi ahve always preferred freedom of movement to actual protection - still affording a few of brown and tan undergarments.

When she emerges, he's looking at himself in the mirror over the dresser, wondering his his beard is too unruly for a serious Jedi Master, but he decides it's fine.

If it hurts to see another friend in the armour of a sith, hiding themselves behind anger and power and dark, he doesn't show it when he turns back and smiles warmly at her.

"I think that makes you look taller."