"Dunno what you're going for but that's a little creepy, Anye, even for you." It also brought a sinking feeling in his gut about her knowing things about him, more dangerous than his mission schedule. It sounded like a threat almost, even though it was surely meant as a joke it made his stomach churn. It was such a sickening thought that he missed everything else she said about waking up, numbly catching the remote out of reflex more than anything else.
By the time she came back he had flicked the TV on to a maraton of I Love Lucy, of all things. The thougt of bolting had occurred to him, but he wasn't sprinting out of her apartment like a teenager caught with his girlfriend on prom night. It would have been cowardly and more than a little ridiculous, so instead he stripped off his outer shirt, leaving only a wifebeater tank underneath. Nick pulled her arm chair closer to the bed before slumping into it like his strings were cut, "How's this?" He asked, sounding tired and more worn than he should at his age.