He had meant to sit vigil and guard her against nightmares, but finds he cannot refuse her request. The part of him that is grieving craves the comfort of another being who understands what he's going through.

"You're probably not wrong," he informs her as he lays down facing her, their hands still clasped together, "but I'll inform you that I feel as if I've done the bare minimum in six months. Even if I need rest, I'm not sure if my body will listen."