[A wandering cat is the first to come out and greet her. It’s Rochester, who meanders just close enough to the couch to be in reach, sitting and looking up at Grell. He lets out a meow that matches his perpetually grumpy-looking face.

And only minutes later do footsteps sound. Perhaps if Ardyn were a man who slept deeply, Grell would have the night to herself, her thoughts her own. But he awakens easily, notices that her spot is empty — so much has her presence next to him been the norm, that to be alone in his own bed now feels alien and wrong.

He appears soon after, his form lingering only briefly in the hallway. Ardyn then crosses closer to her, a faint smile on his features.]

You’re picking up bad habits from your husband, I see. Staying up late beyond what is reasonable. Does sleep escape you, too?

[And yet... he’s not surprised, honestly. Something’s been bothering her; he can tell. He had merely been waiting for her to say something, to come to him about whatever was gnawing at her mind.

Now, maybe, he can afford to inquire about it on this sleepless night.]