He nodded. Feeling a new wash of embarrassment, but also satisfaction. It was his worst quality for being a spy: that he didn't sleep silently. (Though somehow when he was on a stakeout or in immediate hiding, he did. Survival instincts were an amazing thing. He seemed to do better when asleep in uncomfortable conditions—outdoors, on a hard surface, sitting up, etc—and worse when he was actually somewhere secure and cushioned.)

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for pulling me out. …You should get back to sleep while you can. I don't want to ruin your night."