"Don't know yet." Maybe. If they're very lucky maybe. And writing down the nightmare and whatever else is going through their head helps. It might. They rummage until they find the little pad of paper. Not as big as a notebook, but it has some heft to it. Good enough. "Usually can't sleep again not. But it's earlier than usual."

It's one major reason they split their sleep into two pieces. Soldat returns to the living room to wedge themselves into one corner of the couch, little pad of paper on the arm, the pencil in the metal hand.