He shifted then, arching slightly, catlike and content with that touch as his eyes nearly closed, lashes nearly brushing against his cheeks. "Good. You need your rest," he said, meaning it. Not worrying about his own. Not with all he's been through and just kept going. He would rather worry about Harry.

"Don't got time for that normally. Training, missions, JB, making Roxy think two steps ahead. No time for lay ins and rest," he murmured, blinking, looking up at Harry. "And don't need rest. You ain't dead."