He vaguely remembered the ride or the shuffling inside. His bed wasn't much past a mattress and a sheet with one pillow. He didn't spend money on more than he absolutely needed outside of food. He'd lived under the sea, the things of the modern world were just creature comforts. There was no use for decorating aside from anything similar to his tattoo shop. He had a couch, a refrigerator in the thin sliver of a kitchen only he could slide through. the walls were dark and the window was covered with blinds. Heay have hated tight spaces but money limited him from getting anything bigger, which was why he spent more time in his shop than here.
All the bloodloss had made him cold. He tugged at the sheet to cover but there wasn't much to take away the biting air. He felt when she sank into the bed. He had to open his eyes to make sure he hadn't imagined it. He reached out as he had before, grabbing her wrist but not with any force. He was proving to himself she was real. That he was real.