Tsume startled awake, rolling off the cot and landing on her feet before she was even aware why. Then the chair shoved again, nearly tipping over -- anyone who thought chairs under handles did much against a determined intruder was sadly mistaken -- and sliding far enough for the door to open another six inches. Asuma stuck his head through.

Tsume straightened out of her defensive crouch, rubbing her face with one hand. Keeping her fingers curled to hide the stubs of her nails came as second nature now, and she used the heel of her hand rather than her palm to rub.

"Mornin', sunshine," Asuma said, watching her.

"Pretty sure it's not morning." Tsume grabbed the chair and pulled it away, the hand that had been rubbing her face sliding up, dragging her hair out of her eyes. "Why do you look so cheerful, anyway? It's not decent to look so cheerful. At least not without a lot of coffee." She pushed past him, staggering down the hall in some unconscious assumption she'd be needed on deck, or he wouldn't have gotten her up.