[ ah. okay. Bigby should have maybe expected the possibility of Rosalind latching onto him regardless of what he did first. when she does, he grunts, but he doesn't make any effort to shove her away or roll over instead. his shirt feels soft when it's not on his own shoulders, and it's almost natural in the way his arm slides underneath her. her head will now be resting on his bicep, with his fingers barely dragging against hers. ]

I think I've made a point of saying I fucking spoil you, but it doesn't hurt to remind you again.

[ he figures she's going to be asleep before she even realizes it, so he merely stares up at the ceiling with little thought of thinking he can get away with exploiting the shirt that is undoubtedly riding up her thighs. when she speaks again, he looks down at her, even clearing his throat awkwardly at the sudden thank you. ]

Uh... yeah. Don't mention it. I figure this should make us about even.

[ there's the briefest of squeezes out of him as he reassures her, even going as far to extend his fingers to brush some stray, wet hairs out of her face. ]