Will looked down at the still-untouched plate; that brought on another, more insistent grumble from his stomach. He couldn't think the last time he'd eaten. "I should sleep," he conceded, sighing. "I haven't really since— I should sleep."
(No use to his friends hungry and sleep-deprived. No use to them dead. God, but it seemed he was no use any way you cut it.)
(No; enough of that. He was overtired, he couldn't think straight like this. Clio was right, he needed a meal and a proper night's sleep.)
He rested his cheek against the top of her head. "Thanks, love. For being here. For listening to my bleating."