[ When she turns her head to look at him from where she rests, a strand of red falls over her cheek. She brushes it to the side as her gaze drops to his lips: a smile, but tired. She's familiar with that look, like a solider who remains battle-worn, or a diplomat who's poured his eyes over a treatise one too many times.
no subject
Would he be able to concentrate as he is now? ]
...Are you?