"Linya?" He blinks a few times. "Urgh... that was even worse than head polo. I'd like to go back to not remembering my dreams, please."
She drops her hand from his shoulder now that he's quite awake. "Try not to have any of those after I've gone to sleep myself."
"If I had any control over them, I would happily make that promise."
"Oh... at Dagoola, one of my brighter officers was decapitated by plasma fire in front of me. My dreams have run with the theme a few times, most memorably the time I was playing polo against a bunch of dead Cetagandans using his head as the ball."
"Somehow I had imagined learning about what you did while you worked being a happier occasion," she remarks.
She sighs.
She strokes his hair, just the once, not beyond the bounds of what she might be moved to do for even a particularly deceptive brother-in-law who'd just had a nightmare.
She is tempted into one more pet, and then she goes and sits on her chair again.
Miles sighs and looks at his hands and sits up, lest he fall asleep again.
braiding her hair.
She unties her most recent effort and finger-combs out the braid and starts over.
"Apparently Galen stole Mark nine feet of some lady's hair from a collector," she murmurs. "To practice on."
"Well... there's the 'your hair is soft and nice to play with' aspect, and there's the 'spending time with my wife' aspect, and there's the challenge aspect, and there's the accomplishment aspect."
"Mm." She sighs. "I imagine he and his nine feet of stolen hair didn't exactly bond, though."
"But I suspect he would've been able to extrapolate that part, at least to some degree."