Michel did not allow himself the luxury of sleep, he could not knowing that Zevran was still unwell and he wasn't certain what had put him in this state in the first place. He had to be certain this wouldn't get worse, that if he closed his eyes for a moment something wouldn't happen. So he kept himself alert, eyes memorizing the patterns of his companion's tattoos, until he drifted off.

The dreams came again, pleasant ones, but they were more confused than the ones before, at least they confused him. Warm images on a beach that was familiar, but Michel was there instead. It was just a dream...and maybe it had been brought on by the Chevalier's presence, but these...visions were still being projected. He...wasn't certain what this mean and he wouldn't bring it up, but the notion that Zevran's affections for him could run this deep? That they might...

His arms flexed around the assassin's body, he did not want to wake him but he couldn't resist holding him a little closer.