"Not blind, tired." He muttered under his breath, turning away to further muffle the statement for Sam's hearing. G was always on edge, always on guard. He didn't know how not to be, unless he was at the brink of utter exhaustion, too worn out physically and mentally to notice much of anything outside the paranoia in his own head. That was when he went to Sam's to crash, where he didn't have to notice those things.
The rapid survey of rooms and exits was repeated on the second floor while Sam actually looked at the rooms. Satisfied there as well, G returned to where Sam stood in the doorway of the master bedroom. "You're in luck. The smallest room is at the other end of the hall." And it was a corner room, which gave G multiple exits if he needed them, small window in each outer wall. Rolling his eyes at the teasing, he smacked Sam's arm lightly with the back of his hand. "Exercise room. You want to destroy a punching bag in the wee hours, you can do it here where I don't have to go hunting for you."
G may not sleep, but he wouldn't even pretend to relax until they were both under the same roof at the end of the day. Every noise would have him checking to see if it was Sam or someone else.