"I don't think we'd both fit in your bed," is snipped directly back, indulgence be damned.

There is a narrow chair which he frequently makes use of, much to the detriment of anyone else who might care to sit somewhere other than at the edge of their bed. With a disparaging sniff, Ralston shifts in pursuit of it now—dredging it around by its arm like a sullen child so that when he sinks down into it, he is facing Kirigan rather than some alternative.

(Though it hardly matters. He doesn't need to see him to sense his progress.)