[Keeping his arm around Byleth, Claude adjusts the covers around them with his other arm so they're both properly tucked under them. For all his distance from others over the years, this isn't something new to Claude: napping with Hayame had been strangely nice, the steady rise and fall of her flank soothing him off to sleep, so he can imagine how much Byleth would find comfort in something similar here. He's reminded, too, of the way he had held the masked person who could have only been Byleth at the masquerade in his arms, and he wonders now what he would say, if he dropped the pretence, the game between them, and told him the truth.
His feelings are tangling themselves in knots. He looks down at him, then up at the roof of the tent.]
All right. [Then, more softly:] Rest well, Byleth.
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His feelings are tangling themselves in knots. He looks down at him, then up at the roof of the tent.]
All right. [Then, more softly:] Rest well, Byleth.