Well, that had seemed final. Felling like she\'d missed something crucial, the singer frowned at her back as he left her there, presumably to repair to the bedroom, and to the world of dreams beyond.
She waited there for a little bit, listening for the noises that would tell her that he was up and about; brushing his teeth, using the bathroom – doing the little things people did before they went to bed.
Nope. That was it. The end.
Sighing indulgently, the singer got to her feet, and set about the task of locating the lightswitches, flicking them off as she found them. The last of them was the one in the living room. Before she went to extinguish it, however, she paused in Tau\'s doorway, just to watch him, once again, unsure if he\'d actually gone to sleep that quickly or not, and – Jesus Christ, how had she missed those scars? He was fucking covered in them.
She lingered perhaps a little too long in the doorway, cataloguing the ones she could see; old battle wounds, it seemed – except for the nasty-looking ring of knotted tissue around his right calf. Perhaps she\'d ask about that one, later. None of them could have been pleasant to receive. She shook her head and came back to herself, and made to move away and flick off the light – unless he\'d noticed her there, and had something to say.
Otherwise, she\'d retire to the couch, blanket and pillow forgone in favor of letting her host sleep. One of Morgaine\'s many and varied talents was – incidentally – being able to fall asleep anywhere, in nearly any condition, regardless of what was going on around her. (Well, alright, most of the time, when extraordinary sleeping conditions had to be made, it was less actual \'sleeping\' so much as \'passing out\', in Morgaine\'s case.) And so, wold speak to him when she woke.
