Time's marching, but they don't need to. They lift their arm in what would be half a shrug if it wasn't presently occupied.

They're exhausted. Not sleeping, not tired, but still feeling drained. They're also, uncommonly, on a bed.

The Knight is tiny enough they can lean backwards (displacing falsely-organized papers, what a pity) until they're lying down without actually having to let go of Lemm's hand.