The ankle curled around his own is met with a soft chuckle and he stretches, arms--- two now, one flesh and bone and the other a hi-tech collection of wires that works just like the real one--- as he drapes himself over Sam. For now, the call is a distant song, a collar around his neck just a touch too tight. Eventually, the lariat will tighten, the single soprano will crescendo into a choir, but for now he's content to laze with his broodmate and dearest friend. He presses a gentle kiss to Sam's cheek. It's fine, he doesn't need to say or form into words in his mind. It's okay for now. Just woke me up.

It's ungodly nice to snooze and recuperate after a mission. He's not as young as he used to be, soldier or not, and there's only so much an aging body can take before fatigue devours everything else. Though, that might also be due to the withering of the Nest as well. That, he can feel deep in his chest, as ready and apparent as the warmth for the man sharing his bunk.