He yawns into the mattress and says something that sounds like: "Scurrilous lies." He draws a deep breath a moment later, holds it, and then draws back far enough to crack an eye open and look at her. In the soft morning light, rumpled and haloed by sunshine, she is more than a worthy muse. He studies her for several long moments, committing this to memory, and shifts his arms around her so they can settle more comfortably.

"Good morning," he offers after a moment drawing himself up from sleep. He grazes her lips with his in a sleepy kiss and gamely resists the urge to fall back asleep. Mostly. He closes his eyes and hums and is comfortable but surely--alright maybe he is given to dozing more.

"Sleep well?" he asks in a slurred murmur.