[ She's already out, having subsisted on one or two hours of sleep per night for the past few months. There have been few exceptions, of course, but being too exhausted to dream isn't something she can withstand every day. ]
[And he is out straight after her, cheek against her hair. Out so thoroughly, he is dead to the world for the next fifteen hours, sleeping right through the start of his apothecary hours. Anyone kept waiting by his oversleeping will find him dashing in mid-morning bright-eyed and alert and feeling better than he has since the grippe broke out.]
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Right. Good is good enough.
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Good's good enough, [he agrees drowsily, one arm settling around her.]
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