Worrying about it seemed to be all she was doing since it happened, and she gave Issac a look in response to his frustratingly evasive one. He seemed to be trying very hard to convince her he was fine. Marlow tossed the book back on the bed and nodded to wanting a drink, but it wasn't that easy to deter her from what she felt was a very real concern. "You don't sleep," she pointed out. "You avoid it. I'd say that's worth worrying about. And now that I've been in your head, I see why you wouldn't want to." The voices alone were maddening.
"Is that what it's like every time you close your eyes? Torture?" she asked, waiting for him on the edge of the bed to finish working on his hair if he let her. "Even in your sleep you can't escape the voices." Marlow quietly sighed, sweeping a lock of wavy copper hair back behind her ear, silent for a moment's pause. "If you're not doing okay, you can tell me. You know that, right?"