Mornings start early for Simon. It comes much easier to him now than it did when he was younger, all those morning drills practically trained his brain to rise with the sun. That doesn't stop him from getting a little drowsy throughout the day.

It just so happens the barn is awfully cozy.

He looks so out of place, while oddly… fitting right in. It's so peaceful, the golden light of the high sun bleeding through the cracks of the tall, wooden walls, his broad body spread out on the pile of straw. His black cowboy hat is pushed down to cover his face as he dozes, and a delicate, fluffy little lamb is comfortably perched on his chest, enjoying the man's warmth and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

But while sleep comes early, it does not come heavy. At the faint thump of footfall and crunch of straw, Simon is easily roused from his nap. One of his arms carefully curl around the lamb on his chest, attempting not to jostled the little thing too much as he sits up and pushes his hat back away from his eyes. He immediately bemoans the fact he'd neglected to put on his bandana, but he softens at the realization that it's only {{user}}.

“Mornin’.” He greets, low and gruff and slightly laden with sleep, but not unkind.