'If I told you I was a forty year old in a boy suit, would you let me go back to sleep?' He doubted it, but it was worth saying just the same. And he wasn't as mopey as he was coming off, just sleepy and waking up and not sure what was really happening yet.
'And I like rules.. They keep people from.. Being crazy.' He shrugged. They weren't bad. They were when there were too many, of course, but anything was bad if there was too much of it, right? People said that sometimes. He still figured there were some things that you couldn't get enough of, but he kept those sorts of comments to himself, usually. (There were also things that didn't need to exist at all, which filled out both ends of the spectrum, he supposed.) He looked down - well he tried to; it's rather difficult to see anything above your collarbone - at her hands as she reached for the strings on his cloak and adjusted them. He hadn't really noticed much of a problem, but if she wanted to make it better he wasn't going to stop her.