nighttime

[It's become a habit to spend a night or two at the safehouse around when new displaced show up. Maybe it's because he's always hoping a familiar face will show up, and maybe he needs a break from quarters that are less crowded but more filled with people who know him well. Sometimes that bit of distance helps, especially when it means no one's likely to ask him why he's sitting up in the middle of the night, lost in thought and maybe the internet.]

No, you didn't. It's okay.

[He hadn't said anything when she started moving, unsure of whether she knew anyone else was awake and whether he should let her know. Should he have? It's probably a little creepy that he didn't. Whoops.]

What are you doing?