He nods lazily, glancing down at her when he feels her move her head and rubbing his nose against hers. "Yeah, not really a fan of the nightmares thing." And that's to say the least, it's only because of her that he can say that like it hadn't meant anything, like it's not going to fuck with his head tomorrow or the next day or next month. He already knows he'll spend a lot of time wondering how long the nightmares will go on, how long before they cause more than a nose bleed, how much damage it's really doing to him. He knows the thoughts will linger before he closes his eyes at night, maybe not every night but often enough for it to feel like a disease. But those thoughts can wait until later; and if he's lucky, maybe later will actually be a long time from now.

"Nice is good. I like nice with you. It's-- Dare I say it? Nice." He's losing it and it's probably from the beginnings of sleep deprivation but he also means it, no matter how ridiculous he might sound. She's given him so many firsts, whether she's aware of it or not, this here being one of them. She's the first person he's felt like he can entirely let his guard down with, no pretenses and no bravado. It's so different, and he's never really been adverse to change, but he hadn't known he was so on board with it, either.