For once, she wasn't even offended by that. She knew she looked like a wreck, slumming it in pajama shorts and a t-shirt, dark circles and without makeup. At least her hair always looked nice. She eyed him and his open arms for a moment, like she was gauging it. But she'd always been one for hugs and physical comforts, so it wasn't but a couple of seconds before she was sliding out of her chair and curling up with him on his, letting herself be wrapped up in his arms and his coat.

People who saw might make assumptions, but growing up as a Queen meant she'd been living with the public's assumptions for a long time, and she couldn't bring herself to care anymore. He was warm and she felt better in his presence and with his company. Safe, almost.

She rested her head against him and looked up to where Sara was loitering beside his chair.

"I don't wanna talk about it yet," she said. She would eventually, maybe. Internalizing things never really worked for her. "Let's talk about the aliens. Or my life. I mean, it's not very interesting, not near as interesting as aliens and executions sound."