"Levan…"
The tone she used when calling him was barely a whisper, tangled in sleep and something that felt dangerously close to yearning, making Levan turned before he could think to stop himself.
She was no longer clutching the pillow he had given her. Her hair was loose and disheveled, her eyes half-lidded as she rubbed them with her knuckles, still caught somewhere between dream and waking. He frowned, wondering why she had followed him.
"Why are you awake?" He asked, his voice came quieter than he meant it to, more like a thought than a word.
She blinked slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the wall as if to steady herself. "Because you left," she murmured drowsily.
"I told you to sleep."
"I did," she nodded, then added softly, "Didn't like that you weren't there, so I thought I'd follow."
