Well, this is a bit awkward. Greta hadn't expected Iman to drag her along with her, and by the arm farthest away from her, no less. Her smile takes a turn for the bemused (and slightly panicked) as she finds herself in immediate danger of landing right on top of her friend - a fate she avoids only by executing an odd little twirl. For a few tense moments, she fears she'll either fall off the bed or start laughing. She can't laugh, not when Iman's that close to falling asleep and thanking her so sweetly; that would be terrible.

So she doesn't, by sheer force of will. And she manages to balance herself on the portion of mattress Iman's left for her, curling toward her friend to make certain she's not going to fall to the floor. It's not the most comfortable position in the world, but she can manage until Iman drifts off. It won't be long, from the looks of things. And yes, they're a bit close, but if Iman minded, she could easily move back.

She doesn't. Her eyes are shut, and her breathing is slowing. She probably hasn't even noticed. Greta studies Iman's face for a few moments from this unusually good vantage point. She's paler than usual, and a little drawn, but that's better than how unnervingly slack her expression was the last time she was laid out on this bed. It's not a pleasant memory, and Greta's brow furrows. Then she lifts her hand - the one Iman hasn't already imprisoned - and gently brushes back her friend's hair, tucking it behind her ear. Iman stirs, and Greta snatches her hand back with a twinge of guilt... but her friend doesn't wake, and Greta thinks she looks a little less drawn than she had a moment ago. And if her grip on Greta's hand is weakening, it's by slow degrees, not sudden and awful like before. She's all right, just drifting off.

And she's going to be fine.

They'll make sure of it.