At the poke on his shoulder, Loki only made a light noise of complaint. "Slee-ipin," he slurred, voice faint and high with weariness. His eyes didn't open at all. Instead his brow pinched, curling up more around Damian's cat.
Were he truly awake, he would have quipped, nervously joked, placated with a torrent of misleading babble. He wasn't, though. Energy had seeped out of him, leaving him inert, so there he was, responding in his sleep without a bit of shame, without feigned shamelessness, and a definite lack of wit.
A moment later and the door tilt open more. A silent, slow swing on its hinges. Loki was oblivious seeming. Titus and Ophelia were not. Both animals were fixated on the empty entrance. Titus finally whined, more a breath from him, and moved around the bed to Damian's side to rest his head on the mattress, tail unwagging.