It's been a week, since Jean Dulac didn't die.
A week, since Valentine came upstairs with him, holding him in the shroud, alive. He explained his mistake to Cato, and he explained the wounds to Doctor Sato, and everything went on like Jean was supposed to be there.
(The night that Jean Dulac didn't die, Cato spent the small hours of the morning spitefully refusing to cry into his pillow, and since then he's been refusing with equal or greater spite to think about why.)
Cato doesn't trust him. He doesn't like him. He hasn't forgotten how they got here.
But he's right about something, and Valentine wants him kept busy, and some things need doing.
Cato reaches out and shakes their houseguest awake.