May 28
You're going to end up with a sore neck if you sleep like that.
If only she knew.
He had slept in far worse places than he currently found himself in; leaned back in a soft leather desk chair, with his head rested on the top.
Over crowded and disease ridden barracks. The cold floor of a prison cell. Inside a frozen train car barreling through the Eastern European countryside.
Compared to many scenarios, the chair was a luxury.
“I’m not sleeping.”
A stubborn resistance to admittance. The red in his eyes as he opened them to look at her, was in complete betrayal of his words.
“I’m just resting my eyes. You know I can’t make much sense of these sketches and plans. I think it’s giving me a migraine.”