"The light won't be coming tonight. We'll keep it dark. We'll keep Ghost there to guard us. You can sleep for as long as you want to. I'll get you your coffee in the morning."

His tiredness is not the same as her exhaustion, but the cadence of his phrases lends his words the same dreamlike quality. He watches her as she traces the lines of his abdomen, the muscles hard-won from training and fighting; the line of his mouth sets, briefly, when she touches the scar over his heart. His hands rest on her upper arms.

He doesn't know what to say to her now. Maybe she's not fully convinced that he's real.