The warm mattress beneath Arkin is comfortable, but not nearly as comfortable as the feeling of you cuddled up against him. He smiles, still half-asleep, and wraps his arm even tighter around you. Not even an army at his door could convince him to let go of you.

However, as he feels you begin to sit up, he opens his eyes. "Where're you goin'?" He asks sleepily, trying to pull you closer. The messy black curls of his hair fall over his face as he sits up, obscuring the scar across his nose.