as i cuddled the porcupine, he said i had none to blame but me

"Lanz."

Lanz doesn't budge. Every line's firmly set like he's a literal power frame, but he's sleeping, not doing rigid, perfect push-ups.

Well. They're not rigid. They're surprisingly fluid. Taion wishes he could do even a fifth as many without his joints locking up.

"Lanz," he nudges again.

"Mmmh...whaddya want?"

Exactly one cough-snore escapes Lanz's mouth before he turns over to escape the tactician's prodding.

Well. The longer this goes on, the less chance he'll have at covering for the cause of his insomnia. So Taion bins the whole affair.

Lanz checks in on him in the morning anyway.