'Sleeping in the fashion of Men' would, in most other circumstances, be a confusing enough statement that she'd suddenly twist her head. This time, she just makes a sort of strangled noise through her plugged nostrils and keeps herself from waving any confused hands about.

"You don't always remember dreams, at least. And that's better than remembering bad ones. Though, um, do men and women sleep differently, where you're from? Because if so, maybe you should sleep in the fashion of women, if you don't like the way you do it currently? It won't do you much good not to sleep."

Pot, meet kettle. As if Merrill herself hasn't refused sleep and food in years past, working tirelessly on an eluvian, her dreams only encouraging her to work on it more.

"Doing it in a bed would be more comfortable than the library floor, too. Probably."