He snores, a little. It's quiet. Other than that, he barely moves save for a moment where he shuffles deeper into the blanket, hiding his face from the light.

The sound of a voice pulls him abruptly out of it. There's a deep breath and he yanks the blanket down and out of the way of his view, glancing around completely bewildered.

Bag's still here. Unfamiliar room. No, familiar house. Small stranger - no, Myla, and the weird black and red creature, and... the Knight. Right. He's here.

He gives a soft huff and relaxes, one hand snaking out of the fabric to rub at his face.

Muffled, he comes out with: "Eh?"

Best he's got. Sorry, Myla.