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Being pushed back down startled Mimsy into making a frightened noise of protest that sounded sort of like a mixture between 'noo' and 'ahh' and a squeal. The wide, bloodshot eyes that stared up at him seemed to wordlessly be asking what is happening, nails scraping at the sides of the gurney like a cat avoiding its annual checkup.

After listening to what he had to say, her first response was a comment of great importance. She coughed once and blinked at him.

"Actually, I never said any of that." The words had only been out of her mouth for a fraction of a second when she visibly began to doubt herself, the look of smug importance softening into confusion.

Had she said that? Surely not. Even when she wasn't thinking clearly, she most definitely never wished she had a brother, because that was somehow the most concrete of concepts from his entire Monologue of Mimsy.

"Though, assuming that the second voice correlates with you...why do you believe that your love will make me 'better'?" It was the kind of concept that she never believed as a child, the fairy tale ending of love and acceptance that really did make everything better. However, she might have been more willing to accept this solution then, especially during the periods of time when she found herself wishing that the emotion was more involved in her life, but now it hardly seemed to be an appropriate panacea.

She yawned for the fiftieth time and with a motion that was almost reflexive, reached up to the place on her hair where the hallucinated creature should be. Upon realizing what she'd done, she hated herself in that moment more than she thought she ever had.

After regaining her bearings following another series of yawns, Mimsy gave him a pitying look, slowly shaking her head.

"That isn't a science," she corrected him, pausing before she could elaborate on this information. Though she knew there was no direct scientific method for 'following one's heart', she had no idea what it possibly could be classified as. It was a method that she never employed, but considering the general lack of things that her 'heart' wanted to follow, it would not have been much use to her anyway.

Even thinking of it in the way that he presented it was troublesome. She could consider it a valid hypothesis, and was confident that she had the necessary variables, but there was no formula to apply them to, no solidified method in her mind to follow. Was the point to act, then react? At its simplest of forms, that vaguely resembled what she had observed.

The only problem, then...was to go about this in a way that was completely inverse to her normal thought processes. It was massively frustrating that this came so simply to Robert when it was something that she wasn't sure she could capably manage, which she was not going to admit.

"Test it how?" she sighed, relenting. "My concept of all varieties of interpersonal relationships is warped, at best. Deus is not the most trustworthy of observational environments." A brief hesitation. "Generally there is less kissing and copulation within positive relationships, correct?"

The uncertainty that led to that question also made her sort of wish she'd fallen asleep by now, as unfavorable as sleep was.

The response to her question wasn't really what Mimsy had expected (and no, she didn't get the 'copul cabana' joke, either), but she tried to make sense of it nonetheless. Getting confirmation that she'd at least been right about Deus being a bad example did sort of help with orienting her in the right direction, but in the end, she thought that both of them were equivalently confused.

A look of concern crept across her face at all of the suggestions that she should go to sleep, because she was fairly certain that he couldn't save her from any of the things she'd been running from - especially not by hugging her while he slept. Unless it was possible to be saved from friendship by friendship? She supposed she couldn't entirely discount that fact.

Too exhausted to rationally decide otherwise, she judged that just one night couldn't hurt. If this was how to test it, it was probably harmless enough. It wasn't as if she'd kissed him, after all. But she didn't like being wrong. She refused to be wrong, in fact. The amount of faith that she was putting in Robert to be correct would have alarmed her under different circumstances. Right now, she just hoped that he was right.

He'd better be right. "If you aren't, I'll tear you into little pieces," she mumbled, not realizing that she'd failed to vocalize the first half of her thought.

She put her arm over his to feel 5% less trapped and tried to refrain from keeping sleep at bay.

It was easier than she thought it would be.

Jordan's route required that he pass the infirmary on the way out of the labs. A moment later, he backed up and looked in the open door, eyebrows arched. It wasn't too odd to see Robert curled up asleep on whatever surface was handy - they'd been working him too hard lately - but it certainly was odd to see him nestled up against someone else. For that someone else to be Mimsy, who struck him as standoffish and prickly, was even odder.

He could easily believe that Robert had latched on before falling asleep, because Robert didn't necessarily remember that other people had personal space. But Mimsy looked much more comfortable than he would have expected, given that she usually maintained a strict personal bubble. Maybe she was lonelier than she let people see.

Jordan closed the door quietly before he left.