"No." A look of discomfort flashed across his face before he could think better of letting his usually cheery poker-face slip. He fessed up before she had the chance to pry. "Well, yes and no." He let his posture slip, resting back against the cushioning of the chair, his gaze cast upward toward the ceiling.
"Yes, nightly, until they kept me up to the point I was actively avoiding sleep. I don't have a good track record with dreams and an old prescription for sleeping pills—they've been keeping the dreams at bay."