The touch makes his eyelids flutter on instinct, but he doesn't really open his eyes to look. "I can sleep anywhere," he says. It's been easier in the stables--they smell familiar, and the stomping and huffing of horses is what stood in for lullabies when he was small--but not being alone counts for a lot. Whatever he's said to try to make Zevran stop fussing, people are better than dogs.

"What if I ask you to tell me a story?" he asks. "Still grown up?"