The answer to what time it is: not bedtime yet, but dark enough that they can settle down for now and not feel like old people. They'll meet up with Connor in the living room, but they'll get there first... in fact, they'll be able to get John's bed re-made in the interim, because Connor dressed after his shower and went to pull the comforter off his and Sophie's bed and froze, trapped back in the conversation that had only just ended. He winds up sitting on the bed, staring at his hands. They look the same, just like the rest of him -- some things change, some stayed, and he has no reason to believe that anything has changed between him and John. Which could be good or bad. Sophie's rarely wrong about these things, broken rib incidents notwithstanding.

He can't go back out there.

He has to go back out there. Or it'll be weird.

But it'll be really weird if he does go back out there now that he realizes.

"Shit." Connor runs his hands through his damp hair and sighs, shoulders heaving. "Come on, out." He grabs the comforter and pillows and heads into the living room, pointedly not dragging the mattress behind him with shadows. Both rooms in the apartment came with king sizes; one is enough. Because. Yeah.