Iestyn had fallen into a dead sleep, bone-tired after such an emotionally taxing day. After a few hours, though, old memories came creeping back into his nightmares; images of his sister dead in that basement- the way she'd looking in the hospital the first time- blood coating her hands and running down her legs and never stopping. He would wake from one, and fall back into an uneasy sleep only to be roused again by another. Nothing bad enough to wake up screaming, but also nothing he wanted in his mind. At some point in the wee hours, he got up for a piss and a drink of water, and that was enough to reset him to finally get a couple of hours.
Henry getting up woke him. He was never going to sleep heavily after a nightmare, so the slightest movement woke him. He blinked but stayed still, his back to Henry, not moving a muscle until he became aware of Henry slowly leaning over him to peer at his face. He grunted at Henry, still not moving.