[ Though he's more or less finally dredged himself up into a seat, the bed's got an allure to it that's hard to break free of. (Or he could just be tired. Hard to say what's what at this juncture.) Easing back, he rests his shoulders against the headboard, blanket still modestly pulled up over his belly. He's still not the best at eye contact, hair naturally sweeping over the unkind reflectiveness of his pupils, but he does cant his head at her, knowing. ]

Sounds like something that someone who doesn't get thanked enough would say. [ Cheek begets cheek. He does look aside again, not ready to contest that point in earnest. ] Duly noted, though. I'll try not to dramatically keel over on you like this too often.