Marcie's comment about staying up late made him think of Tragos, and the things he'd said about how sleep was important to health, to muscle growth, to split-second reaction time. It was a bitter pang of memory, and following on its heels was the gutting thought of how little sleep Tragos had really got over the last few months, and how much Kaden hated Ares for all of it.
"They're good cakes," Kaden said, refusing to voice any one of these feelings. He stretched out his arm, offering her the last one. His tired eyes felt like they were made of sandpaper, but Marcie looked bright and fresh and beautiful. With his less sticky hand, he raked his fingers through his hair, self conscious about how messy it was. He shouldn't care, but he did. He shouldn't care about a lot of things, but he did. His mind was grasping around trying to find something else to grip onto, something that wasn't Tragos or stupid dreams. Self consciousness might as well be it, for now.