Splintered

Chapter Ten: Midnight Leftovers

Chair legs protested loudly against the wood floor, drawing Hazel's attention to her doorframe. Leo's silhouette shifted backward with a less-than-graceful movement. His head lolled forward and then backward like a helpless buoy trying to stay afloat. Or, in this case, trying to stay awake.

Hazel called out to him, "Leo?"

Her voice seemed to break him out of his dance with consciousness. Despite the darkness, she could tell he straightened, "You all right, Marlowe?"

"You should be more worried about yourself. How are you going to make it through the night?" He had spent most of the day with her with little rest, even after Sable had returned from his shower.

The chair squeaked against the floor once again as he pushed his spine hard against it. "I've gone longer without sleep before."

Hazel shook her head, "Come in here. At least sit in a better chair." Gesturing to the plush cerulean recliner next to her bed. It was overwide with more cushioning than it needed, but it was head and shoulders better than the hard, utilitarian chair he was currently perched on.

"I'm on duty. Supposed to be keeping watch."

"Keep watch in here."

Even in the dark, she could tell he was pursing his lips and even caught a shake of his head.

"You're going to fall out of that chair and get a head injury. Then where will we be? Who do you think Sable will blame for it?"

Leo huffed out a sigh through his nose and ran a hand over his face.

"Do me a favor. Do us both a favor." She pressed, leaning out of the bed, patting the arm of the recliner.

He remained still, seemingly arguing silently with himself. Hazel decided to push a little more, "Or, by all means, stay where you are." She scanned the patio doors, "You think I could jimmy open that padlock with a pair of gold earrings?"

Leo muttered under his breath and rose from the chair. "Ok, Marlowe." She bit down on the smile forming at her success, not that he could see it.

He strode across the room and eased into the recliner. Once he was closer, the dark circles under his eyes became more prominent. Several stray, dark amber hairs stuck out of their designated place. Even his hair wanted the day to be over. Detaching the gun from the holster, he set it on the recliner's arm. Finally, he propped his boots up on the footrest. His shoulders sagged, and his exhalation sounded like pressure being released from a boiling kettle. "This is more comfortable."

"Told you." She smirked, sliding further under her covers as he sunk deeper into the overstuffed chair.

Just then, a desperate growling noise reverberated through the room. Hazel turned on her side to watch as he stiffened and placed a fist over his stomach as if it could keep the sound at bay.

"Hungry?" she asked.

"No." He replied, still not looking at her. However, his stomach had no issue with letting loose another round of arguments to the contrary.

"Liar." Hazel eyed him. "You and Sable didn't eat anything for dinner."

"I'm fine."

Hazel pulled the covers from her legs and slid her feet to the floor.

Leo straightened, the furrow returning, "What are you doing?"

"I can't let my protection starve."

Leo held up a hand, "I really am all right, Marlowe."

"Well, then I won't be able to sleep with your stomach growling all night." Hazel slipped out of the door before he could protest any further. She waited for a moment, but he didn't follow her.