And they're in his room, which is tidy and organized and... doesn't have many things. A couple of books from the library, notebooks, pens, pencils, and paper on his desk, his clothes in the closet, nothing on his bedside table.

"You're very neat, aren't you," she says, looking around.

"Yup!"

"If we are very quiet," she adds in a low purr, "we won't necessarily wake Alex, not from across the hall."

"...I can be quiet."

The occasional whimper and moan does escape his lips, but he's overall much quieter than usual!

He certainly appreciates her appreciation.

Those! And once again, no nightmares. He hasn't had nightmares in a while, and even though he knew to expect that it still kinda surprises him.

And in the morning she is still flopped on him, mumbling nouns. "Vivacity. Cholera. Mirror. Blood."

Snuuuuuuuuggle.

"Morning, ma'am. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah. You, pet?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just—have been thinking. About that whole speech I gave when you collared me."

"What about it, pet?"

"I said that I'd share everything with you and stuff but I haven't, really, have I?"

"If you aren't ready to tell me everything you don't have to be. I'm not in a rush there."

"Yeah, so I guess what I'm saying is that I'm ready."