Now he's grinning to himself, and even nodding a little. He knows the black and white rules of his world didn't work perfectly well, but hearing that word - good - just brought him back there so quickly that he had to confirm what Sophie meant. "Good" was behaving, hiding, bowing to the pressure on them until it let up of its own accord; and even before that, "good" was destroyed by the simple fact of what he was, so completely that his parents broke family ties and left him to his own devices. Her definition, if it lines up with what Connor shows to them, is a much better one.

Her favour causes a momentary defensive flash across his features - do they still not trust him, even after he agreed to come back? - but the fact that she divided the responsibility so evenly between them helps to calm and smooth that away into thoughtfulness. They're not keeping a hawk eye on him to make sure he doesn't run away again, or light up the house. It's just closeness, as she said: the thing he's worked on here, but is still so unused to when the entirety of his life is taken into account.

"I can do that. Shit, I can sleep anywhere." He used to sleep with Euri directly on top of him, of all things, a thought that makes his mouth twist downward with a lingering flicker of pain. This is just another time when he wishes he had her here, to give the kind of comfort he only really found with her. Connor and Sophie help, endlessly, but there's still something missing. "Right now?"

He stands up again, all ready to drag his mattress out if she says so.