“…where are my glasses?”
For a second she genuinely looks worried.
“I’ve got them,” I say, taking them carefully from my jacket pocket.
She stops.
“You took them off?”
“They were digging into your face.”
There’s a small pause while she processes that.
“Oh.”
Then, softer, “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
She puts them back on slowly.
“I don’t usually just fall asleep on people,” she says.
“Makes me feel special.”
That earns a small laugh.
“Please tell me nobody noticed.”
Dave immediately gives her a cheerful thumbs up.
She closes her eyes briefly. “Fantastic. Love that for me.”
“They’re just jealous,” I say.
“Of what?”
“They had to use the headrests.”
That gets another reluctant smile.
The coach doors open then and everyone starts standing, grabbing bags, stretching after nearly six hours of sitting.
“Right,” she says, straightening slightly. “Back to being professional.”
She stands, then hesitates for half a second like she’s not quite sure how to reset the distance between us.
“Thank you,” she says again. “For… letting me sleep.”
It’s not the words. It’s the way she says it.
“You looked like you needed it,” I say.
Her eyes lock with mine and I get lost for a second.
Then someone behind us calls, “Gaffer, you moving or you settling in there permanently?”
I stand. “Careful. You’re very close to extra fitness work.”
