She watched him, over her shoulder, until he ducked his head forward and she did the same, enjoying the feel of his breath across the back of her neck. She slid her opposite hand along his arm until hers was wrapped across them both, and she skirted the tops of her feet against his leg. Just because.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered back. She kind of meant it. Not that she had any particularly strong feelings of 'what Christmas meant', except as a bleak reminder of everything that life could have been if she didn't know, or hadn't known, every second of what it would be. But there was a certain sentiment in it that she could kind of get behind, in that moment. Watching Jamie wake up was strangely gratifying, if a little sad. With his brain switched off, he could be mistaken for a happy person. With his brain switched off, he wasn't him, though.