She'd gotten up just long enough to unlock the door for Pierce, grab a blanket out of the hall closet (the chill was finally getting to her--whether the blanket would help or not remained to be seen) and hit the couch once more. Naea was wrapped up with her tissues and clutching her phone in her hand, debating on whether or not to call Mary back when Pierce came in. The knocks she hadn't noticed; his voice made her jump slightly.
"Plenty of room on the couch," she said. And there really was: Naea managed to take up one cushion out of four by herself, knees pulled up to her chest, chin resting on those knees, arms wrapped around her legs. "Thanks for coming over. Excuse my pajamas." Not that Pierce could really see them through the big orange blanket. She'd at least stopped crying and given way for her thoughts to come, instead.