[It happens every so often. Polnareff has a nightmare and he jerks awake strong enough that it pulls Bruno out of sleep for just a few hazy seconds. Bruno just curls in a little closer to Polnareff when that happens, waiting to see if he can settle back down on his own or if he needs a little more than just Bruno's physical presence. It's never gotten to the point that Bruno's had to fully wake up and talk with him though. Polnareff either settles back in or he steps away for a cigarette or two, but he doesn't tend to need Bruno for more than that.]
[Bruno waits now, too, even though this is incredibly different from usual. He's never heard Polnareff make so much noise before. There's never been tears. At least not to the extent that Bruno knows they're there without having to look. But he waits because Polnareff deserves the opportunity to somewhat privately pull himself together a little better than freshly woken up from whatever images or memories his sleeping mind had just played out for him in vivid technicolor. Just a little time to come back into the room, and not in the past or in his mind. Staring out into the dark of the room, Bruno listens to Polnareff's breathing as the metric for how much time he needs alone. He knows it probably won't reach something calm and smooth for a while, but he listens for it to pull away from erratic.]
[Only once his breathing seems to settle enough that Polnareff has at least a vague awareness that he's in the room right now does Bruno sit up. Bruno keeps the motion small and slow, and avoids trying to tear his attention away from the illustration. (Whatever he saw in his dream, replacing it with that image of Abdul right now is important.) Bruno slides a hand across Polnareff's back to wrap his arm around his shoulders. He says nothing for now, only giving a light tug as a silent offer that Polnareff can lean on him if he needs or wants to.]
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[Bruno waits now, too, even though this is incredibly different from usual. He's never heard Polnareff make so much noise before. There's never been tears. At least not to the extent that Bruno knows they're there without having to look. But he waits because Polnareff deserves the opportunity to somewhat privately pull himself together a little better than freshly woken up from whatever images or memories his sleeping mind had just played out for him in vivid technicolor. Just a little time to come back into the room, and not in the past or in his mind. Staring out into the dark of the room, Bruno listens to Polnareff's breathing as the metric for how much time he needs alone. He knows it probably won't reach something calm and smooth for a while, but he listens for it to pull away from erratic.]
[Only once his breathing seems to settle enough that Polnareff has at least a vague awareness that he's in the room right now does Bruno sit up. Bruno keeps the motion small and slow, and avoids trying to tear his attention away from the illustration. (Whatever he saw in his dream, replacing it with that image of Abdul right now is important.) Bruno slides a hand across Polnareff's back to wrap his arm around his shoulders. He says nothing for now, only giving a light tug as a silent offer that Polnareff can lean on him if he needs or wants to.]