He drinks the water as directed, drinking it all down - he was thirstier than he realized. Sets the glass aside and just leans against her, too grateful and too exhausted not to. There's no one to give him this anymore. He was never super affectionate, at least he's pretty sure - always shy and reticent and ducking away from hugs. But he hasn't made that a conscious choice in a long time. Now that it's freely offered he doesn't have it in him to turn it down.

And he's so, so tired.

He slumps against her, still feeling the urge to cry but having nothing left, no tears, just a hollow, relentless headache. He needs to sleep. He can't ever sleep, especially not when he needs it.

Maybe it's that there's someone here this time, warm and soothing, keeping an eye out for him - no longer just relying on the camera to catch whatever's watching him, but a person who can wake him. Not that he'd ever ask her to protect him from his nightmares (no one can), but.

Regardless, he starts drifting off. Impossibly tired. Ground down to almost nothing. He slips away, gradually becoming more horizontal until he's curled up fully on the couch, his head in her lap, his breathing slow, his eyes fluttering in a dream he won't remember.