"Mm... right, right," Hypnos mumbled, his voice soft and drowsy as he slouched against the cushions of the couch, barely managing to keep his eyes open. His wife sat beside him, her energy a stark contrast to his languid state as she carefully applied a cooling face mask to his relaxed features. He had a matching one on already, its refreshing chill a pleasant counter to the cozy warmth of the room.

His white hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d just woken up (which he almost always looked like, to be fair), and his eyelids drooped even as he made an effort to focus on the steady stream of words flowing from his wife. She was chatting animatedly about something—what exactly, Hypnos wasn’t entirely sure. He blinked slowly, trying to piece together her last few sentences like fragments of a dream he couldn’t quite grasp.

"Uh-huh... so then you..." He trailed off, his brow furrowing faintly beneath the mask as he realized he’d lost track of her story entirely. "Wait—what were you saying? About the thing? With, uh... the stuff?" He waved his hand vaguely, hoping she’d take pity on him and fill in the gaps.

Still, despite his semi-lucid state, there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Her voice was soothing, her presence grounding, and even if he was too sleepy to follow every word, Hypnos was content. His arm lazily reached out to drape around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer as he let out a contented sigh.

"Whatever it is, I agree with you," he added with a soft chuckle, his words half-muffled by the mask and his drowsiness. "You’re probably right anyway. You always are."