"You too," he says, smiling faintly. "Mmm."

"Scale of," she yawns, "—scale of one to ten, how dumb would it be to take a nap right now?"

"Look at it this way: you haven't slept in six hundred years," Tas points out. "I think you can take all the naps you want."

Lynne is suspicious of this logic. But she's also very, very tired.

Maybe if she just... leans on him... and closes her eyes...

He lowers the bed back to its horizontal configuration, curls up with his arms around her, and pulls a blanket over both of them.

And, despite feeling a little silly about it, she nestles close and drifts off to sleep.