"This wasn't exactly what I meant," Thomas said but he was laughing, rubbing a hand over his eyes and through his hair. It was his own fault, really, for not being more specific.

"What's gotten into you this morning?" Thomas wondered, curling his fingers into the fabric of the borrowed shirt. "I would have thought you'd just want to lay here, still and quiet, so you wouldn't get a headache or a backache or any other ache that someone who's old like you gets."