Mal had fallen asleep almost immediately after he'd laid down, and had slept like the dead the whole night. He'd woken about an hour after dawn and grabbed breakfast, but he'd fallen asleep again after that. A good run always wore him out completely. He was completely wrapped up in his sheets from the waist down, one arm tossed over his head, and the other shoved up the shirt he'd pulled on as if he'd been trying to itch himself. His shirt was pushed almost all the way up, baring his lean-muscled chest and stomach, along with a detailed tattoo of a compass just above his left hip. His hair was an absolute mess, wild and wavy on one half of his head and pressed flat on the other half. He was pouting in his sleep, like a little boy who'd just been scolded by his mother. Young and serious. 

(Ugh, that's kind of terrible. Sorry. Didn't know what else to do.)