Not really. Unfortunately, the answer to that was either 1. he made the Chao sleep on the floor, or 2. he got bugged enough by the little guy that he'd just cave and let everything happen. In short, sometimes Shadow shared the bed, sometimes he didn't.
Therefore, his answer was simple:
"Only if he bothers me to the point that I no longer give a damn."
He grunted, approaching Sonic from behind and eyeing him. Goodness. He never thought he'd see him so tuckered out so early in the day. He was usually so much more energetic and spunky. It was both mildly worrying and refreshing, truly. Peace and quiet.
He almost hoped it wouldn't last much longer.
"Stay still," was all he spoke before he softly stepped towards the closet, producing a very clean, very washed blanket. Ah, yes, his silky, burgundy one, one of his favorites. Should he bother letting Sonic dirty its beautiful, pristine surface with his filth, though?
Ah, why the hell not. He headed back over and draped the cover over his shoulders, fingertips brushing over them and his cheeks in his movement. He didn't move those hands of his, planting them firmly, yet soothingly where they were, all while he knelt down beside him. To see him like this, especially so close-up, made his brows knit further in his concern, his lids and ears suddenly heavy.
Yeah, he hoped this wouldn't last much longer, now in full.
"You're still tired." That should have come out as a question, yet he kept it as a factual statement, the slightest hint of worry in his tone. Of course he's exhausted. He'd been through so much, after all.
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Therefore, his answer was simple:
"Only if he bothers me to the point that I no longer give a damn."
He grunted, approaching Sonic from behind and eyeing him. Goodness. He never thought he'd see him so tuckered out so early in the day. He was usually so much more energetic and spunky. It was both mildly worrying and refreshing, truly. Peace and quiet.
He almost hoped it wouldn't last much longer.
"Stay still," was all he spoke before he softly stepped towards the closet, producing a very clean, very washed blanket. Ah, yes, his silky, burgundy one, one of his favorites. Should he bother letting Sonic dirty its beautiful, pristine surface with his filth, though?
Ah, why the hell not. He headed back over and draped the cover over his shoulders, fingertips brushing over them and his cheeks in his movement. He didn't move those hands of his, planting them firmly, yet soothingly where they were, all while he knelt down beside him. To see him like this, especially so close-up, made his brows knit further in his concern, his lids and ears suddenly heavy.
Yeah, he hoped this wouldn't last much longer, now in full.
"You're still tired." That should have come out as a question, yet he kept it as a factual statement, the slightest hint of worry in his tone. Of course he's exhausted. He'd been through so much, after all.
Soon. Hopefully, soon.