As if she had heard him, she hummed something inaudible under her breath, but clearly did not wake up from her slumber.

She rarely did.

Walking over to the desk, Gérald calmly put away the letters and the lodger that he carried, continuing on to the assassin he had come to cherish beyond words. Daring to brush a wayward curl from her face, he closed his eyes halfway as the by now familiar warmth bloomed in his chest.

”You are working much too hard, Aveline... Will you ever learn?”

His words were naught but a mumble, a plea that he knew she would never listen to. How he wished another life for her, one that did not include murders and hardships: this dangerous double life that would doubtlessly claim her life one day. Perhaps his as well.

No, certainly his as well. For when she died, a part of him would die with her.

Drawing a deep breath he carefully nestled his arms in underneath her, trying to make sure that it would balance out once he straightened. Only once he was certain that it would he braced himself for the weight and lift her up, wanting to have her rest in an actual bed rather than the questionable comfort of an armchair.

Aveline sighed at the shift of position, but as through a miracle she stayed asleep. Even as he turned to carry her to the bed her only actions were to prop her head against his shoulder, hum contently to herself, and keep dreaming.

He smiled faintly at the sight. The feeling of having Aveline in his arms was a dual one. Heaven and hell. Not only because he lacked the proper muscle mass to feel confident in carrying her around, but also because it made his heart ache with all the more vigour. Her smell mixed with each and every one of his breaths, her warmth a soothing balm next to his slightly colder body temperature.

Gérald knew nothing as bittersweet as the closeness he felt when carrying her the short distance between the armchair and the bed.

Despite the disadvantages he walked carefully, rather taking it too slow than too fast. Taking his time, rather than risk dropping her or otherwise wake her up — she needed the sleep, so badly. If the bureau was the one place she felt safe enough to doze off, if he was the only person who was allowed to carry her the way he did without her waking up, ready to defend herself at a moment's notice, then he would bit back the less chivalrous sides of his affection a thousand times over.

”Careful now,” he mumbled to himself as he manouvered around the office, keeping a close eye on the furniture. The last thing he wanted was to walk her into something.

However, Aveline must have heard him, as the next thing she did was shifting in his arms, resting her forehead against his neck instead of his shoulder, mumbling as she did:

”Always careful, monsieur...”

At first Gérald's heart skipped a beat in panic, luring him to believe that he had woke her up, and he froze where he was. But as the seconds passed and Aveline made no more inclinations that she was awake or even aware of what she had said, he slowly relaxed anew — and his heart beat harder for other reasons.

As Aveline's forehead nuzzling against his neck.

Swallowing discreetely, Gérald resumed his attempt to get her to a bed without waking her up, wanting nothing more than to put her down so that she may get some proper rest — and him some reprieve from the flutter in his chest.

Having reached the bed, he carefully put her down, always gentle and attentive to make sure that she would not be disturbed from his motions. Especially as he near toppled over when said motions had the weight shift without him being properly prepared for it.

Gérald prayed that the flutter of her lashes was due to a dream, nothing else.

Straightening up anew, he arranged the last details — such as putting a blanket over her to keep her from freezing — and took a step back. Giving himself a moment to make sure that she was comfortable, he then drew a breath.

”Rest well, Aveline,” he said softly, and turned to leave just as the corner of her lips curled into a miniscule smile, as if she was not asleep at all.