Amy had seemed, to put it bluntly, fucking whipped when she'd shown up at Priestly's door. He hadn't even had to mention that she should just pass out in his bed; she went right to it. Priestly felt badly for her; she had a friend from home here in Lawrence, but he'd gone missing on her. Just about the only thing worse than not having any friends from home, Priestly thought, was having them only to have them snatched out from under your nose.
He was channel surfing when he heard the thrashing start. Uncertain whether he'd actually heard anything that wasn't on the television itself, Priestly hit the mute button on his remote control and paused to listen. Yeah, Amy was thrashing in there. Getting to his feet, Priestly walked around the couch and took a few steps toward his bedroom. "Ames?" he called out in a lower than normal volume for trying to get someone's attention. If she was sleeping, he didn't want to wake her, but if she was having a nightmare or something, he kind of did want to.
Moving slowly, Priestly walked closer until he was just outside the door. That was when he heard her gasp. "Amy?" he tried again, pushing the door the rest of the way open from its slightly ajar position.
His newfound friend was sitting up in his bed, the sheets and comforter kicked all the way to the edge, hanging off in a tangled mess. When he stepped into the room, he could see her silhouette feeling her own face and, okay, that was kinda weird. He noticed, too, that she was shaking and her chest was heaving. Priestly knew the signs of a nightmare when he saw one. "Ames, hey...it's okay," he said at a normal volume, stopping just inside the room, in case his presence was unwelcome. "You're okay," he added, looking back at her sympathetically in the dark, one hand poised over the light switch hesitating to save her from too much bright light unwarned.