It is kind of crazy--and definitely endearing--that Vincent is so quickly crashing toward sleep. The only thing that Irahl can compare this to is Robin passing out on him, but that had always been either after a nightmare, when Robin had already been sleeping for hours, or after nights of heavy drinking, and that didn't count for other reasons. He's never watched someone feel so comfortable around him that they just flopped over against him and fell right to sleep without the weight of alcohol dragging them both down.

Irahl gives the most unobtrusive "mhmm" he can muster to keep from distracting Vincent on his way toward unconsciousness.

At first, Irahl is watching Vincent meander his way toward sleep with amusement. Sometime after that though, as he starts to feel more like he is being left alone with his thoughts, he becomes aware that feeling of amusement is shifting to something that feels a little more crushing.

It's not quite the crush of gravity or the impossible weight of hopelessness, though. The feeling is a little closer to what it's like to have big arms wrap around him like they're trying to squeeze the air out of his lungs. It's too many feelings at once.

It reminds him of discovering that a certain mortal wound hadn't been as mortal as he'd dreaded it would be. It's the feeling of realizing he can keep his friend, all over again.

Luckily, that sort of feeling is exhausting, and it won't be very long before his brain shuts itself off to let him sleep for a little bit too.