He gives up completely when it looks like Wei Ying might help him instead, leaning a little towards him to watch the man take off his boots.

There's a wealth of words and feelings that lie just at the back of his throat, but none of them find purchase on his tongue.

Once his boots are removed he'll swing his long body up onto the bed, crossing his hands over his chest, but his eyes stay half lidded and staring at the ceiling. It's not quite nine yet. He'll have to wait it out.

And then face the sober morning.