He was getting more accustomed to sleeping on beds again. Not that it helped him to sleep--he slept badly and had for years and there was no cure for that, so he made do with what sleep he got because there was little else one could do. But he was getting used to waking up on something soft--softer than the ground, anyway.

But...the reason he'd woken... No, the reason he had been woken, because he hadn't woken of his own accord nor been pulled to wakefulness by dreams nor been thrown into wakefulness by nightmares, was because of some...one pressing up against him.

It was too early for jokes.

He slid over, nearer on to the edge, his own edge, of the bed.