[ He freezes again as she stirs, tries not to make a noise, worried he might have woken her. Her fingers grasp his sleeve, loose enough that he could easily pull himself from her grasp – and he considers it for a brief moment, wonders if he ought to let her rest. Given how quickly and how deeply she had fallen asleep, she clearly needed it. But Faraday has always been the type of man to indulge himself, to make little selfish choices, so instead of drifting away, he moves to sit on the edge of the bed.
Emma's not quite awake still, he thinks with some relief; the short distance from the hearth to her bed hasn't roused her much, it seems, and he wonders if she's caught halfway between reality and some dream. He's surprised to hear his name on her lips, because—
(he wondered if she would mistake him for Matthew)
—well. It doesn't matter what he thought.
But his voice gentles, adopting a softness he would never use while she was awake. ]
no subject
Emma's not quite awake still, he thinks with some relief; the short distance from the hearth to her bed hasn't roused her much, it seems, and he wonders if she's caught halfway between reality and some dream. He's surprised to hear his name on her lips, because—
(he wondered if she would mistake him for Matthew)
—well. It doesn't matter what he thought.
But his voice gentles, adopting a softness he would never use while she was awake. ]
I'm right here.