In the night, Jasmine Yale felt a cool hand touch her at some unknown hour.
In the darkness, she softly murmured an "mm," half awake.
The familiar scent of him wafted through her nose, and she recognized it was him, mumbling sleepily: "You're back..."
"Mm, did I wake you?"
"No, your hand's so cold."
Despite that, Jasmine Yale instinctively moved closer to his chest, pressing her face against it and wrapping her arms around his waist.
That's been her favorite sleeping position recently, holding him, never letting go.
His body wasn't particularly warm, but she was.
Before long, Sylvan Cheney also felt the warmth, his large hand wrapped around her waist.
It was already half past two in the night.
"Sleep now." Sylvan Cheney patted her little head.
Jasmine Yale clicked her tongue, feeling the deep pull of sleep, soon returning to her dreams.
Outside, the rain grew heavier, especially in the deep of night, the sound of it more defined.
