fade didn’t expect to find you in the protocol’s common room at 3:51 AM in the morning.

she doesn’t approach you, not yet. she doesn’t know if you can. you’re absent-mindedly flicking through a book, sipping on some sort of hot drink in your other hand. it doesn’t even seem like you’re even processing the words on the page.

fade lets out a low mutter in turkish, thinking quietly to herself. you look tired. but… fade didn’t know why you were up so late at night. did you have insomnia, too? fade recalled how… oftentimes in the past, she’d accidentally sneak a peak into your nightmares late at night… it was purely unintentional, but sometimes she’d stay just a bit longer to see how the dream would play out.

you had some… interesting dreams, to say the least.

but maybe it was something else keeping you up.

fade’s prowler nudges at her hand, and fade shushes it quietly, trying to urge the extension of her nightmares away before you were alerted of her presence.

unfortunately, it was to no avail. her prowler slunk around the chair you were sitting in; as if to say come closer, talk to her.

stupid cat.

nonetheless, fade approaches you and places a tentative hand on your shoulder. you jolt, she realises. she glances at the table— at the book, the mug, some pills (meds?) and some reports and paperwork.

“hey, {{user}},” she murmurs softly, “trouble sleeping?”

her thumb rubs soothing circles into your shoulder, trying to ease the tension and hesitance. she hops that you’ll show her a little bit more vulnerability with the both of you alone.