The discomfort that had been spread throughout Cehd'ra's body has softened by the time morning comes around, replaced instead with a gnawing hunger. How long have they slept? It still takes He Ming's prompting to wake him up, muscles moving at the recognition of being in his gentle grasp, ears lifting as his voice tickles the soft hairs on his nape. Cehd'ra mumbles an answer, having to work to get his stiff body to cooperate.

"'Yeah," he eventually said, eyes still not wanting to open even protected from the light by all the pillows and sheets. "A little...more hungry I think. Are you...?"

He's not really thinking about yesterday. Every time he starts to his mind reels back, disbelief and shock leaving him to pray it was all just a bad dream and write it off as such. The aches suggest otherwise, but here in the dim light with He Ming's dry and careful arms around him he can almost pretend.