[ Sylvain, Claude has learned, observes far more than he lets on. Case in point: the observation about his own sleep schedule. On the heels of it comes being vaguely discomfited over the sensation of being seen. Externally there's a ghost of something like a blink in tandem with that, but it's mostly covered by conveniently also handing the other man his drink at the same time. He thinks. ]

Maybe I just do my best thinking at night and always have. Works out nicely for now, doesn't it?

[ There's a hazy thought Claude has that he could tell Sylvain about what happened not long after his own arrival, that the other would understand, that maybe it'd be better to just get it out of the way. But - then he catches himself and remembers, absolutely not. He'll take a drink of his own ale then, like he's finally remembered it was there (possibly also because he did) and sets it down to absently spin the glass in place slowly. Anything to keep the liquid moving so it doesn't try showing him something else. ]

But that said, I don't think any of us are getting any decent sleep lately. The real surprise is that we're somehow the only two down here this time around.

[ A crack in his determination to not speak of past events, not that Claude notices. He's too busy propping his chin in one hand to join Sylvain in his slouched over position. ]