Sleep was important, even to a thief like Conan. Currently, his cloak, tunic and trousers were all thrown into your floor in a dramatic fashion. Conan himself was draped over your bed- pillows all around it and the blanket on the floor.

His long, curly red hair flared out behind his head and tangled in some places. He wore nothing but a loose robe around his hips, a having no shame despite this being your house and not his own.

“Dramatic priss.” You mumbled, walking closer to see if there was anywhere to lay on the bed, as you yourself was exhausted. His 6’2 frame left no room for you even if you curled up- in a starfish position.