How could they have mistaken this feeling for anything else? Jesus. Seeing her settle in and shut her eyes right there in the chair, right in front of them, it's so big. Soldat eases up from the couch and pads over to tuck another blanket around her, lean over to pretty their lips to her forehead. "Sleep well, Misty."

They will indeed make themselves a snack, then settle into their own vigil on the couch until they wind up curling up there and sleeping across the coffee table from her. Not long, just another two hours or so, but it's enough.