Sometime during the night, Kire had rolled into him, curling against his chest, her other arm slung over him. Kire found herself like this when she stirred in the morning, groggy from such a deep sleep. Reluctant to move, she kept still, her eyes closed, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her. When she finally accepted that she couldn’t fall back asleep, she sighed softly and gently rolled onto her back again, though she kept his arm draped over her middle. “Hey,” she whispered, “morning.”