“Fortunate then that I’ve never been one for flight.”

There is no gentleness when he returns, but concern lives in his movements all the same: heavy hands reaching for tangled sheets and the thickened bedding that rests overtop of it.

“Lie back. You need rest still.”

He does not need to see the sunken state of her stare or the yawn she stiffles; his measures are preventative, and stern, no less.