Good. It's going to be a long, stressful day for both of them tomorrow; it'll be markedly worse on no sleep.

(Alistair fully realizes the irony of that thought so soon after the wow, maybe I'll get a whole three hours of sleep tonight if I'm good and eat all my vegetables! ponderings.)

I love you, he murmurs against Cullen's hair. Settles in kind, eventually.

He stays; he tries not to watch the shadows overmuch; and eventually, he drifts off.