Welcome to Gaia! ::

Dawson snoozed away until Chel was halfway done with her shower. With a big yawn, he stretched out over the blankets he had entangled himself in, rolled onto his back, and exhaled. At first he was confused (the walls actually looked normal), but after a second yawn and the recognition of the sounds of running water, he remembered where he was again.

Rousing himself with a grunt, he fished his shirt out of the mess, got up, and lumbered over to the kitchenette. Hot chocolate sounded like a good way to wake himself up, and maybe Chel was in the mood for it this time. So by the time she got out, there were two hot cups out, one of which he savored with a hum.

"Mornin', sweet pea," he greeted with a smile. "Ya slept good?"

He chuckled, bubbling his hot chocolate on accident. "Momma said I could sleep through a tornado," Dawson said as he licked his lips clean and wiped the rest off his chin and nose with his hand. Then he paused and frowned slightly her way, noted her state of dress, and quickly dropped his gaze to his cup again. "I didn't, uh, snore too loud, did I? Or like strangle ya? 'Cause 'pparrently I do them too.

"Aww, y'know what I mean," he said a little quickly, color rising to his cheeks. But he was happy to have her hang off of him still, even after making an idiot of himself yesterday, and his smile was warm when he glanced at her.

"Me, uh...I got something bit past noon." Dawson noted she didn't look like she was heading out the door and nudged the second cup of hot chocolate closer to her. "So if ya want, I can heat up some've our leftovers fer breakfast? Or, uh, I can get outta yer hair too, I don' wanna wear out the welcome mat..."

"No problem, darlin'." Well, now he couldn't eat, not in good conscience or without losing his Good Manners. But hot chocolate was fine for now.

He pressed his fingers to the cup for warmth and eyed Chel curiously. "You okay?" Dawson asked with a slight tilt of his head. "Didn't have nightmares or anythin', right?" Staring into her cup felt out of place to him; or maybe that was his awkwardness talking, grasping for things to mention and validate his presence there. But he had to wonder why she was skipping her duties too, which seemed a serious offense.

Dawson shook his head. "Ain't gonna stuff m'self in fronta ya if yer not eatin'. Tha's disrespectful." And as he had proved the night before, he would avoid coming across as that at all costs--even when it involved food, which said something considering his otherwise gluttonous habits.

He gave Chel a sympathetic look as she explained and touched his hair, though it was broken up by a soft snort. "You ain't fulla nothin' but sweetness, Chelsea," Dawson protested. "N' don' let no-one tell ya otherwise, ya hear? Or I'ma have ta go talk to 'em. 'Cause it ain't right," he gestured at the bracelet and almost spilled some hot chocolate, "y'know, it ain't right at all t'make ya wear that. Kinda person sticks bombs on theirs? Nu-uh." He shook his head again, a milder motion with her hands threading about but no less emphatic. "Offerin' t'let me come by whenever like that? Lettin' me be a test date? Yer a good gal s'far's I'm concerned. People like you n' Abbi n' 'Merica, yer good people. Anyone sayin' otherwise's got s**t fer brains."

"Naw, ain't like that," he replied with a frown. His bag was stubbornly ignored in favor of sipping his current drink. "But you can tell me, yeah, if ya want. No pressure like ya said."

For the duration of it all, he was quiet and attentive; the only movement was the soundless bounce of his foot and slow tap against his cup, motions that, like many, he barely noticed anymore.

He didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't any of that. Dawson was speechless when she finished; he attempted to speak a few times, but his mouth kept closing, his face kept screwing up in that expression of sympathy and pain and concern. What could you say to that? Sorry?

"M'sawry."

Apparently.

Dawson fumbled a few more half words before he set his cup down, frustrated with himself. Where were the magical words to help her feel better? "Tha's...tha's a lot t'carry fer...just one person," he eventually managed in halting words, his voice still soft. His brows knitted and, hesitating, he slid an arm around Chel. "M'so sawry, darlin'. But s'good ya got it out've yer system, yeah? Ain't knockin' around inside so much." He ran his hand up and down her back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.