They hadn't slept together since that first, arduous night of their arrival here. The night before his departure to Toronto, he'd fallen asleep while reading on the couch. She'd come by and covered him with a blanket at some point.
Five long days, two of those spent apart.
He shifts his weight in the chair, the wood creaking as he does so, and sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. Suddenly he feels exhausted.
"I'm tired," he says, with a rueful smile that tells her she's talking to him, to Benton, not the man he presents to the world; and it's not a request for anything from her. He doesn't feel as though he has the right to ask for anything from her. "Really tired," he adds, as his gaze lifts to meet hers once more. Worn out. At his limit. And it shows.