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Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

"Strange bed, weird smells. It's a pretty good bet," he said, his face twitching in annoyance at himself, at the situation. He was so used to managing his PTSD he sometimes got lax. Apparently that was what had happened. He smiled when Seamus set about creating a environment for his self-care. He loved that his friends knew how to do this for him. "Fire alarms?" he suggested, starting to shiver slightly. It was one of the effects of his nightmares sometimes.

He shuffled over immediately Seamus asked. Not that there was very far to go. They were two grown men trying to fit into one fairly small bed, but they could make it work. It's not like they had many compunctions about personal space with each other. And snuggling down like this was familiar. Safe. Seamus was right, it wasn't exactly warm, although warmer than England. He kept quiet as they arranged and rearranged themselves until they were something resembling comfortable.

"I brought it. I'll take it the rest of the week I think," he said quietly into the dim room. The flickering candle providing light and fragrance.