Noble slept on his stomach with his head tilted to one side, breathing steady, in a soft shirt and his underwear under a thick comforter. He usually slept pretty heavily, too, but it was one thing to be able to tune out the sound of wind against his windowpanes and the creaks of his house, and another to tune out the sound of someone whispering at him, and the smell of coffee. He rolled over a beat after Ford's words, and sat up, still tangled in the blankets. Noble blinked at his brother, trying to clear the sleep out of his eyes — his head was foggy with it, too. His hair stuck up at all different directions.

"It's early," Noble said, slowly and obviously. He held his hand out for one of the coffee cups less because he was thinking about it and more because his mind was caught on it — coffee, and the sun wasn't up yet, and Ford was here, and Noble wasn't yet caught up to the real world.

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