[With his hood up like that, curled up small, there's a painful moment in which he thinks of Miguel. He goes to grab a blanket-- even if he's got to yank it off his own bed-- and he lays it over Cliff. He sets out a glass of water for when he wakes, then he settles down close by, weapon ready at his hip, and he keeps watch, however quiet the day or night.]
Sleep well, kid.
[He'll still be there later, arms folded over his chest where he sits, eyes closed, but not asleep.]
no subject
Sleep well, kid.
[He'll still be there later, arms folded over his chest where he sits, eyes closed, but not asleep.]