a thousand nights or more, i travel east and north
How many times is she going to wake up like this before she adjusts to it?
Faye's not sure, but she's sure at least that this time she wakes up somewhat less violently than she had the morning before. And by less violently she means calmly and without having a spaz attack. She's in a different location, but she knows how she got here - snoop, food, snoop, that weird science program on jellyfish, pass out. And she knows what's in here with her - pillows, blankets, the sun slanting across the bottom of the bed, television, Frederick.
Hm.
That last one's weird.
Faye relents only because, all in all, she camped out in his cot, and she's still too drowsy to really get offended or concerned. Besides that, it's Frederick Abberline. What the hell could he possibly do? She stretches, arms at hard angles above her head, bows her back, all that shit, and then rolls over.
And for five seconds she's going to allow herself to be very unfair and very much a twenty-five-year-old girl who plays with a man's hair when he's asleep next to her. It's a compulsion, like gambling, and she doesn't even have to lift her head to do it: just stretch her arm across the pillow.