[ Cambridge might not be a telepath but you hardly need to be able to feel the mind of another person to know when it's in turmoil. He knows how little Oxford sleeps nowadays; he feels guilty for getting as many hours as he does, knowing that the other man might only have had half as many. At Oxford's request - no, order - he casts his gaze aside but for all intents and purposes remains exactly as he is, still sitting unabashedly half-naked on the older man's stairs. ]
no subject
So you're the one who's up early, not me.