Hansel just sighed, of course she would. It didn't stop him shuffling that little bit closer when she squeezed, because he knew she knew he wasn't sleeping properly yet, and it had nothing to do with the companion under the bed he tended to share the floor with.
He'd barely moved from the bed since they came back from the hospital, going through the motions while he tried to right his own mind once again and forget exactly what had happened. "Bad dreams, there's something special." He couldn't help the sarcasm right then.
But his own nightmares were just that, his own. There was no fog and dark, no Marrowood in them. Simply the repeated terrors they'd faced in their own world, repeated end results that never came; Muriel winning, Gretel dying, Mina, one close call turning wrong, the myriad of witches faces haunting in ways it never really bothered him before.