[ his fingers are poised a bit over the rim of his glasses when november speaks in the shared quiet and peter draws them back into his palms, pulling his hand away with a soft laugh and letting it come to rest between the both of them, hardly moving the rest of himself. he's quite comfortable as is, the type to bask, even more so now that their daily activity involves being wrapped to the nines in layers of unrelenting cloth. ]

Far be it from me to keep anyone from indulging themselves a little bit longer.

[ limbs, quiet and heavy and bodies warm, thoughts free-floating, not quite fully-formed. he turns his head, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand a moment, teeth sharp in his mouth a moment, clicking shut like a satisfied cat. ]

Why, I can hardly feel past my knees yet. I doubt I'm going anywhere for a bit.