All Nite

03 | Dizzy Dance

The shock of cold air on Bunny's face is like another slap, but the reason he staggers to a stop is the sight of Lusine and Jules, both of whom go silent, turning towards him with differing levels of surprise.

"I don't know what she's telling you but it wasn't that bad," Bunny insists, voice an unfortunately frantic sort of trill.

"Bunny," Jules says, brow lowered far enough over his eyes that it's started to look like a caterpillar. "It sounds like it was pretty serious. Why-"

"It wasn't serious, if it was serious then I would have gotten the hell out of there. If it was serious I would have done something."

Jules opens his mouth like he's going to argue, but then he glances to the side, towards Lusine. Her face- darkens, and Bunny realizes after a heartbeat that he can hear the same noise that probably distracted Jules, the low growl that seems to tear from Lusine's throat.

It dies after a moment, as Lusine grits her teeth, closes her eyes and tips her head sideways, visibly controlling herself. She lifts her head again after that, meeting Bunny's eyes with an expression he can't really read beyond a certain level of fury.

"You didn't do a goddamn thing wrong," she says, low and firm, and Bunny-

Hears the words, feels his stomach pulse unhelpfully, and then chokes on a laugh. "I didn't do -" he shakes his head. "I didn't do a goddamn thing period," he chokes. "Which is- was- that's not-"

"Bunny," Jules says. "I know you don't want it to be, but this is serious."

"I could have stopped her and I didn't," Bunny snaps. "I'm the one it happened to, whatever it was. Isn't it my say how serious it is? How much we need to- to focus on it?"

"She hit you," Lusine says. "She would have done it again if I wasn't there. You-"

She makes as if to step towards him, but when Bunny twitches, not quite a flinch, she pauses mid-stride, lifting her hands.

"You don't... look. Yes, it's about you, it's about you not deserving to be treated that way by anyone, but- but it's about her, too," Lusine says, her tone very certain, her stance very solid.

Bunny's head is swimming far too much for him to make sense of that, but Jules nods.

"If she did something like that to you, it means she's the sort of person who does things like that. She could end up doing something worse to someone else in the troupe, and if I know about it and don't do anything, then I'm responsible for it too." He pauses, and then says, "For all I know, she might have already done something like that to someone else and just didn't get caught that time."

Every muscle feels like it's trembling all at the same time. Bunny wraps his arms around his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits to keep them still and pretending that he can't feel his legs pretending to be aspen branches.

"I don't want- I don't want- she's already mad at me and I didn't even do anything I can't just- I don't want-"

"What kind of leader would I be if I just ignored this, Bun?"

"I don't know!" Bunny shakes his head, setting the street spinning in a somewhat alarming way. "I don't know! I don't care! I don't want this to be happening, I don't want her to come back, I don't want her to look at me like that, I don't- I just- if it isn't a problem then it goes away! I just want it to go away-"

"Hey," Lusine says, suddenly closer. Or- closer without him noticing, at least. She's also spinning, right along with the sidewalk and the streetlights. Jules is probably spinning, too, but Bunny has his hands pressed to either side of his face, and he can only see a dizzy little column of what's going on in front of him. Lusine's hands grip his shoulders, still steady, palms warm and firm without squeezing, holding him still against the way the whole world seems like it wants to toss him around. "Hey," she says again. "You don't... you don't have to pretend that it isn't a problem to make things okay again."

"I'm not-" Bunny's breath catches, he shakes his head again and regrets it very quickly. "I'm not- pretending. It happened to me, I get to decide whether or not it's a problem! I get to decide!"

Lusine frowns, something like sadness, something like-

Bunny tenses. "Don't fucking pity me," he snarls, reaching to grip Lusine's wrists, theoretically to push her away, but his limbs seem to forget what he's doing partway through, just gripping and hanging on as his feet try to sway. "Don't you fucking-"

"Not pity," Lusine says, still sad. "You're- you're shaking."

"I'm furious," Bunny says, lifting his chin defiantly. "It'll do that!"

"Look, Bunny," Jules interjects, and Bunny jolts with the reminder that someone else is out here. "It's not like it's just your word against hers. Lusine saw her, and that ghost in the corner, too. She didn't get what she wanted, which was apparently to corner you somewhere dark and out of sight and push you around. And there are too many dark corners in the theater, even if there aren't in the studio. I don't want her to have another chance to pull something like that, not with you and not with anyone."

It makes sense. It makes sense. But Bunny still just wants to hit a button and evaporate the entire last hour of his life from existence. Rewind to when Ayla was just a little pushy, attractive and fun and funny. When he thought her dark eyes on him were a fun little game they were playing with each other, and not a threat.

But-

"I get to decide how hurt I am," Bunny mumbles, not really sure how loud his voice is coming out. "Me. I get to decide how much it bothers me."

"That-" Lusine stops. Swallows. Doesn't let got of Bunny's shoulders. "That's... fair," she says slowly. "I'm not going to try to convince you to feel worse, but..."

Another pause, longer this time, and Bunny decides that he doesn't like the quiet, actually. The quiet isn't friendly towards him, towards his slowly fuzz-burning brain. There's no buffer when it's silent. He almost breaks, almost starts babbling again, but Lusine starts to chafe her thumbs against his shoulders, rubbing a soothing, symmetrical arc on both sides, and bizarrely, it eases some of the snowstorm static in his head.

"But," Lusine eventually continues, her voice more firm again now that she's thought through her words, "you can feel bad about it. You don't have to feel worse than you really do, but... you don't have to pretend not to be upset at all, either. Especially," her expression darkens, just barely, "not for her. She doesn't deserve your pretending. She doesn't deserve your anything. And she's not entitled to it, no matter what she thinks."

Bunny breathes, breathes, breathes. Realizes that he's doing his box breathing without really thinking about it. Lusine is still rubbing her thumbs against his shoulders, and he realizes belatedly that her movements are precisely at the pace of his breaths.

"I don't... wanna do anything," Bunny mumbles out of the side of his mouth, closing his eyes.

"You don't have to," Lusine says.

"Not right now, that's for sure," Jules adds.

Bunny bites his lip, maybe too hard, physically resisting the urge to lean forward enough to turn Lusine's hands on his shoulders into a real hug. "I- think. I think. I don't know how I feel. Except that I drank," he inhales, "too much, too fast, and it isn't going very well. And it's not going to go very well. Generally. In the near future."

"Ah," Lusine says, and then when Jules makes a wincing sort of noise, she glances over her shoulder towards him.

"Ah," Jules echoes. "Yeah. I shouldn't... have let you do that."

"Couldn't've stopped me if you tri-ied," Bunny singsongs, dropping his head down with nothing to rest it on. He closes his eyes, realizing belatedly that that makes the sensation of swirling in his head so much worse. "No one can stop me from self destructing except me, and I didn't feel like it."

Lusine exhales; Bunny thinks it might be another sort of laugh. Jules makes a substantially more dubious noise.

"Look," Jules says, his voice a little closer than it had been. "You don't need to make any decisions, you don't need to do anything. I just want you to know that I've got your back." A pause. "And the rest of the troupe, too. We're not going to let let anyone- fuck with you."

Jules hesitates before the curse. It's almost cute, and Bunny giggles despite himself.

"Alright, alright," Jules mutters. "Anyway. It's freezing out here, can we... maybe?"

"You want to head back inside?" Lusine asks, her voice soft somewhere above his head.

There is a large table full of Bunny's fellow dancers inside. Some of them have probably been talking about him, and talking about Ayla, and talking about Ayla and him. And when he goes back in that door, they're going to look up at him. And they're going to stop talking.

And he's going to have to talk about it more.

Bunny shakes his head.

"I live out here now," he decides in a mumble.

Lusine's hands twitch, and Bunny finally glances up, catching the amusement in Lusine's eyes, trapped in the very corner of her lip. Her expression goes considering, then, and she hums very softly before she- lets go of his shoulders. Bunny isn't expecting it, and the sudden lack of contact leaves him cold and stiff and oh, right. Dizzy. Lusine drops her hands to her sides again, squeezing her fists.

"Hold tight," she says, and then she turns and half-jogs closer to Jules, leaning to say something close by his head and gesturing in a way Bunny is nowhere near coherent enough to interpret. In fact-

Bunny tips his head back, looking skyward instead. No reason to bother trying to focus on it when his head is like this, anyway. May as well look at the stars.

Or. Well. The single star that's stubborn enough to pierce the light pollution from this particular vantage point.

After- however long, Bunny hears the bell above the diner door chine distantly, and then a moment later he hears Lusine's footsteps on the asphalt approaching again. She clears her throat, probably trying not to surprise him. Which is nice. He makes a humming noise, acknowledgment without needing to speak or look away from the clouds curling around that solo star, just yet.

"We don't have to go back into the diner if you don't want," Lusine says. "But we should probably go inside, either way. It is pretty cold."

Bunny can see his breath, yeah. It's been mixing with the clouds above him, as far as he can tell.

"Bunny," she says, voice a little lower and a little closer. "C'mon. You're shivering. Not going to do yourself any favors if you get yourself sick."

"I shake when I'm stressed out," he mumbles at the sky. "Haven't stopped yet."

"You did, actually. Stop. When I-" she pauses. "Earlier."

Huh. Maybe she's right. "Hands," he says, a bit lamely. "Right."

"I want to get you somewhere warm," she says, and Bunny can't help the giggle again.

He finally drops his head, and he catches what might be color in her cheeks at that, but- well, it's dark out here, and Bunny is pretty inarguably drunk. Wishful thinking is pretty goddamn likely.

"Where besides the diner?" he says, his brain catching up with his ears.

"Not far," Lusine says. "Just upstairs. Your friend is going to let Ariela know that I'm taking my break so I can get you situated. Alright?"

Bunny considers, or tries to, and realizes that he is in no state for consideration. He nods anyway, because- well, it sounds like his options are upstairs or face his troupe, and he'd prefer to put off the latter option as long as physically possible. Lusine steps up beside him, then, and very carefully takes his elbow, checking his face the entire time as if he might protest. Which is also nice. Lusine is nice. Or- kind. Or something.

She starts to walk him back towards the building, and Bunny tries very hard to focus entirely on his steps. His footing is, generally, impeccable, but at the moment it requires something in the realm of eighty percent of his attention. If she were literally leading him right back inside the All Nite anyway, he's not entirely sure he'd notice. And that thought actually does make him look up, just to confirm that they seem to be aimed towards a different door, off to the left of the diner windows. The looking up was a different mistake, though, because it drew focus away from his feet, and his knees take the opportunity to try to coordinate a revolt against him in collaboration with his left hip and his right ankle. He manages not to fully stumble, but only because he pulls out a dance move on muscle memory and half-jumps a step, startling a noise out of Lusine.

"F- holy shit. Please don't do that, I thought you were going to eat that brick wall."

"I am the very picture of elegance and- and elegance," Bunny declares, faux-haughty, ignoring the whole verbal flub bit. There's another word he wants, but- it doesn't want him, just now. "M'not gonna look away from my feet again. Though."

"Probably a good plan," Lusine agrees, stopping them for a moment to pull out a set of keys and unlock the narrow door, and then she pulls him inside.

There are stairs to contend with, in here, and Bunny eyes them extremely dubiously, squinting as if he might be able to make them flat with sheer willpower alone.

"Alright," Lusine says. "I know how your night has gone so far, please feel free to tell me to fuck off. But. I know how annoying these stairs are to navigate when I've been drinking so." She pauses, and Bunny manages to pull his eyes from the stairs to glance sideways at her.

The lighting isn't much better in here, is the thing. Bunny still can't be sure if he's imagining the flush to her cheeks.

"Well," he says, drawing the word out long and slow, "I don't think I'm going to be able to guess what you're gonna suggest. So you're probably going to have to just say it. Probably."

Lusine huffs, resettling her arm through his elbow, and then pulling back just enough that she can look him in the face.

"Do you want me to carry you up the stairs?" she asks, very calm, and-

Alright, nevermind Lusine's face, Bunny feels pretty positive that he just went fully tomato red. He might have said something, but he doesn't think it was quite... words. It was probably more like water overboiling the edges of a pot.

"You can say no," she says. "We can probably manage, just with me right behind you keeping you going straight and steady, but... I thought it might be easier."

Bunny becomes sure very very suddenly, very convinced, that he will definitely break both his ankles if Lusine doesn't carry him up the stairs. He'll probably just die, in fact. Deathtrap stairs. Oh what a shame.

"You... yeah," he manages, sounding way too breathless. "Okay. Sure."

Lusine furrows her brow, head ducked as she checks his expression. Too carefully for Bunny's current preference. "Are you sure? I don't want to... push. Or anything like that."

"M'sure," Bunny says. Which doesn't actually sound very sure. Despite his best efforts.

She hesitates, maybe predictably. "I just don't... I don't want to be the sort of person who pushes you around, or- takes advantage, or-"

Bunny snorts, which at least manages to accurately convey his reaction to that. His actual voice is doing a bad job of that, currently. "You're not Ayla," he says, which- was not what he intended to say at all, speaking of his fucking voice failing to do what he wants. "I-"

Lusine's jaw clenches, and she inhales shakily before releasing it in another huff. "I know. I know. But also, you're drunk and I'm bringing you into my apartment, and I just want to be really clear and really careful so you don't think-"

"Your apartment," Bunny echoes, because he hadn't...

Lusine lives above the diner. Door next to the diner windows. Stairs. Fucking duh.

"Right," he says, his tone hitting a bemused sort of brightness. "Right, of course. Yeah. Makes sense. You're very careful. And. Considerate."

"I mean..." Lusine tips one corner of her lip up, smile crooked and uncertain. "I try. But- seriously. Is it alright if I carry you?"

Bunny doesn't trust his voice to maintain an agreement with himself, so he just- nods, and lifts his arm in a somewhat instinctive gesture towards Lusine's shoulder, the same sort of move he would make if one of his troupe were going to lift him, ready to help support himself, too.

Her smile firms, a little, but-

She doesn't lift him like a dancer. She lifts him like he's a bundle of wood, shifting her stance and scooping an arm under his legs, the other behind his back. Bunny makes a noise that comes out sounding something like meep, but- Lusine's grip is comfortingly firm. Or- heartbreakingly firm, maybe. He kind of maybe wants to cry again. A little bit.

Lusine starts up the stairs, tipping herself at a slight angle so she doesn't knock either Bunny's head or his feet against the wall, and she's moving up the stairs almost before Bunny can fully register the movement. He-

There's... something just so, so nice about being carried like this. He's used to lifts, used to dips, used to a movement that looks like an effortless drop into someone else's arms, but all of those sorts of movements in his profession actually require a lot of effort on the part of the partner doing the dropping or the rising. It's just a matter of perspective, really. It only looks effortless from the audience. This, though-

She's got him. She has him. He's okay.

It's like being on the deck of a boat, a little. Gentle back and forth as Lusine brings them up the stairs, the vague rush of her heart as Bunny lets his head tip sideways against her shoulder, his ear pressed to her collarbone. It should make him dizzier, he thinks. It should, but it doesn't.

Things around him are sort of... blurry, currently. Which is probably partly because he's not doing a particularly stern job of keeping his eyes open. She's warm, too, and Bunny is suddenly just... extremely sleepy. It's probably a good thing that her grip on him doesn't require any effort on his end, because he's starting to feel a little like his limbs are turning into pudding.

"Gonna set you down now, okay?"

Bunny didn't actually realize that they'd made it all the way up the stairs. She taps his back with a finger when he doesn't respond, and he gives a muzzy sort of mmhm, though he's only halfway sure that he'll be able to keep upright when she drops him.

She doesn't drop his legs first, though. She lowers him still horizontal and-

Oh, loveseat. Plush yellow fabric that sinks underneath him as Lusine settles him, still laid out over her arms, onto the couch, before she slips her arms out from under him and leans back in a crouch to check his face.

"Alright?"

Probably, maybe. Tomorrow won't be nice, he suspects. Right now he feels very warm and very alright and very dizzy, and Lusine is here which is very nice, and he wishes maybe that he'd stopped a bottle or two earlier when he was having his little crisis earlier.

"I maybe shouldn't have had the cream liqueur stuff too," he says, a little mournfully. "I feel. A little stupid about it."

Something he didn't register as true until the words slipped out of his mouth, which is great. And fine. Lusine's brow furrows, hopefully just sympathy and not pity. He's too tired to feel angry about maybe-pity anymore. Maybe in the morning.

"You're not stupid," she says after a moment. She hesitates, still crouching just in front of the little couch, and then she presses her lips together and sighs through her nose. "This... might be overstepping, and you can tell me if I'm wrong, or just- tell me to shut up no matter what." She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, and Bunny watches, bemused. Not sure where she might be going. "You... you didn't want to feel it. You wanted everything to be fine, so you were pretending things were fine. You wanted to not think about it, not feel it, so you figured... take something to make your brain feel like less of a presence in the moment."

A little flash of coldness tickles down Bunny's spine. The amused curiosity disappears, and he looks away from her, swallowing. Feeling the dizziness more acutely again. The little loveseat tips back and forth, the walls and ceiling trying to turn a waltz with each other.

She doesn't say anything else for a long moment, and then she stands up. It feels sudden, and Bunny flinches back. When he glances up, Lusine looks- pained, almost.

"I-" Lusine plasters on a smile, too thin to be convincing. "I'll be right back. Sit tight."

She said that earlier, too. He thinks he ignored her, that time. But- currently, his legs are goop and his head is soup and he just can't comprehend the idea of trying to stand up. Seems unsafe. Seems silly, maybe. So he'll wait. Sit tight. She'll come back, he's pretty sure.

The walls dance a waltz with the ceiling, and Bunny blinks until his eyelids feel too heavy to keep holding up.

He hears a cl-link, and he manages to remember how to open his eyes again after a minute or two. Lusine is crouched again, a little off to the side this time, and on the little end table next to the arm of the couch, there's a tall plastic glass of water.

"Are you alright with pills?" she asks tilting her head. "I've got painkillers, it'll help in the morning if you take a couple now."

Bunny considers this, then shifts himself enough to wedge his back against the corner where the arm and the back of the couch meet, because he's not going to be able to drink or swallow any pills if he's horizontal. He lifts a hand out, and Lusine drops a pair of pills into his palm.

"Please don't try to dry swallow them," she says, a little wryly, and then she presses the cup of water into his other hand, keeping her own hand around his to steady him as he dutifully takes the painkillers. He tries to give the glass back, after the first mission is successful, but she keeps her hand firm on his. "Gonna have to insist that you hydrate your butt at least one full cup before you're done."

Bunny frowns, but he manages to suck down the rest of the cup between a few slow, unsteady breaths.

He feels less cold, up here, which is nice. He's not trembling, but he feels... shaky, and a little hollow. Tonight was... bad. But. He's okay.

"What... what now?" Bunny says as Lusine sets the cup back down on the side table. "I..."

"Now," Lusine reaches and scratches at the side of her neck, eyebrow raised. "Now, best case, you sleep this off, and only have a pretty bad hangover tomorrow instead of a debilitating one."

Bunny decides very quickly that he shouldn't try to say the word "debilitating." It probably won't go well. And. He has to think about that for a second, because... wait.

"I... I"m supposed to... be downstairs?" he tries. "At the, at the party."

Lusine tilts her head at him. "Do you really feel like you'll be alright to go down there again and socialize?"

Bunny's stomach does an unhelpful, anxious little flip. Lusine must be able to read it on his face, because she nods.

"You can sleep it off here. I don't mind. I have to go back downstairs and finish off my shift, but I can come up and check how you're doing on my breaks, and if there's anything you need, I won't be far."

Another pause as that all churns through Bunny's unhelpfully cottony brain. "My... roommate will be worried?"

"Jules promised that he'd text her and let her know where you are in the morning," she says, unperturbed.

Oh. Well. In that case.

"I am... I am tired," he admits, as if it's not obvious, and Lusine gives a small sort of smile.

"Is the loveseat big enough for you?" she asks. "You've got long legs, is the thing."

Bunny grins, feeling sly and flattered. "I sure dooo," he says, kicking one out over the other as if even that motion doesn't make his head feel uncertain.

She eyes him, considering (he flushes, oops), and then hums. "Alright, I think there's a better spot for you. Up?"

She lifts both of her arms out for him, and he shrugs and takes her wrists, letting her pull him back to upright again with an uncertain wobble.

"Oh boy. Okay. Why does this feel high up I was on a stage a few hours ago," he murmurs, and Lusine shrugs as she scoops an arm under his arm and around his back.

"You weren't drunk when you went on stage," she says, and then she shoots him a look that he only barely registers as teasing. "I hope."

He gasps in mock outrage, and he would swat at her if he didn't very much need both of his hands clinging variously for reasons of not falling on his ass. "I would never. I could dance exactly as well like this, but that's just uncouth."

"Exactly as well," Lusine echoes, sounding extremely dubious.

Bunny takes a moment as they walk, feeling out the way his legs want to move, the way his equilibrium wants to go swimming. Second part, trickier with his head like this, he flits his eyes around, checking the area directly around them, paying special mind to anything that sticks out from walls or anything that might be potentially breakable.

They pass through a narrow doorway into a slightly more wide open space, hardwood floors, oh score. Bunny grins.

"Warning shot, warning shot," he singsongs, and Lusine pauses to look at him as he skids his own feet to a stop, halting her momentum with him. "Comin' in hot, comin' in hot!"

She blinks at him, and Bunny knows- Lusine doesn't dance, she's about said as much, though most people who don't dance professionally insist that they don't dance, despite the fact that dance is fun and easy and beautiful at just a base amateur level, and Bunny honestly adores the amateur level. The word means to do something out of only love, and, well. He gets paid, sure, but- love is the core of it. Love is the reason.

Anyway. The point is, thinking that she doesn't know how to dance has no bearing on whether or not Lusine can dance, but that's not something Bunny is dumb enough to try to test out while he's drunk. They'll both end up on their asses. Better to trust Lusine to do what she seems to do best; stand extremely stalwart and firm and be entirely unmoved by Bunny's antics.

Bunny slips out from the arm Lusine has wrapped around his back, drawing his hand down from her shoulder and along her bicep, spinning himself in a neat twirl around Lusine's back as if she's a part of the set he's meant to dance around, or- well, a little like she's the pole, from back in the days when he did more of that sort of dance.

Lusine does pretty much what Bunny expected, stiffening (like a pole!) and not even seeming to breathe while Bunny curls himself in a playful arc behind her back, his feet sketching elegant lines across her hardwood and in jaunty arcs in the air by turns, and when he comes around her other side, he draws his hand along her other arm, and when he reaches her wrist and grips there, he trusts that she'll know to- ah, perfect, she wraps her strong palm around his wrist in turn, so that when he puts his weight on his back leg and leans his body entirely back, the tension from their mutual grasp keeps his spine curved in a graceful arc instead of sending him overbalanced and sprawling on her floor.

He giggles, still tipped back, and then he tugs himself back upright with Lusine serving as a counterbalance.

"What..." she says slowly, staring at him in something like alarm, and Bunny giggles again.

"I told you! I told you," he says, tapping her shoulder with a finger as she resettles her arm through the crook of his elbow. "Muscle memory over everything. Not even my terrible choices can keep me from dancing, hon."

"You-" she scoffs, but Bunny can see sidelong the way her mouth is twitching towards a smile. "You're ridiculous, actually. You can't climb some stairs and I feel you weaving sideways every other step, but you can twirl around me like a goddamn ballerina on a whim?"

Bunny scowls. "Not like a ballerina, thank you, I don't actually have those chops," he insists, and Lusine gives him a dubious look. He doesn't actually know why he winds up saying, "I was actually twirling around you like a pole dancer, if we have to narrow it down to a single discipline. That's more where that came from."

"Pole dancer," Lusine echoes, and Bunny can't quite read her tone.

"I used to be very popular in burlesque shows in college," he confides in a stage-whisper, trying not to feel defensive about the whole thing. "I even let them convince me to put on the too obvious too cliched ears and cottontail once in a blue moon, too." He tips his head back, closing his eyes like a magnanimous king. "Anything for my adoring public, after all."

Lusine snorts, and then she shifts her stance, turning Bunny to face her and then gently shoving him back. He realizes after a very confused moment that she's sitting him on the edge of a bed, so they must have reached the destination she intended.

"Kick your feet up, dancer boy," she says in a warm sort of murmur, and Bunny tries not to flush again. She scoots some blankets out of his way as he pulls himself onto the bed. She kneels by the bedside, then, and helps him work off his sneakers and set them to the side before he scoots closer to the middle of the bed, sighing instinctively as he curls into the pillow. "Here," she says. "One more cup."

She takes a glass of water from the bedside table, tipping it against his lips and helping him drink it slowly down, taking breaks to breathe between sips.

"I'm going to leave the bathroom light on, it's right through here," she says, reaching through a cracked door off next to a dresser and flicking on a switch. "I'll probably come check on you in a couple hours, just to make sure you're doing alright. For now, though, just..." she shifts closer again, resettling the blankets around Bunny's shoulders with a serious look. "Just don't worry. Try to sleep. Anything important will keep until morning. Alright?"

Bunny only half remembers that there's stuff he's supposed to be worrying about, anyway. He nods against the pillow, sighing again and letting his eyes slip shut, the spinning sensation only worsening the littlest bit, easy to ignore. "Th'nk you," he manages in a slipshod mumble. "Owe you one."

"Not a chance," Lusine says, somewhere between firm and flat, and then after a beat she says, "I'll let you buy me breakfast sometime, maybe. Seems even enough to me."

Bunny nods again, eyes still closed, and he isn't quite conscious by the time the bedroom light flicks off, and Lusine disappears.