That settles that for the morning's events, then; a hunt, wow, if only everyone Huaisang knows could see him right at this moment— contemplating the hunt and nothing else that any of them might make interesting new faces over. The hunt and then breakfast somewhere they serve more than bread and cheese, and it's something to look forward to, here in the dwindling minutes before sleep finally comes calling. The warmth from Nighteyes is as novel a sensation as the rest of them, and it relieves Huaisang somewhat to simply - know. To just know another's feelings, without having to ask or to guess - how luxuriously Fitz and Nighteyes have it.

So: he is content, and arranges his hair one last time to stay out of his face when he finally puts head to pillow. Fitz's crooked smile settles warmly in his chest, soft like the chuckle it ekes out of him in turn. Wow, points for honesty? But come now, sir.

Huaisang drums his fingers on the mattress for a moment too brief to really pass as "thinking it over," before he reaches for Fitz's hands again and nudges them apart, wiggling his own in between. He gives one hand a short squeeze, like a decisive little punctuation mark; this is how it's going, now. It's a stay-with-me-please-thank-you grip if ever there were any, more tentatively affectionate than afraid of the peripheral monsters.

"As long as you leave the lights and the locks alone," he says, and adds as he pointedly shuts his eyes, an eyebrow quirked anyway, "I'll know."