Bossie watches Carver until he can't keep his eyes open anymore, and then he listens, and then he's sleeping and he's dreaming.

It's a disjointed thing, flickers of scenes: peaceful memories of Carver cooking in a house they took, interrupted by almost subliminal flashes of the children Bossie killed in the upstairs bedroom. He doesn't sleep deeply, and he twitches and frowns, but it's not the screaming nightmares he often has.

The smell of food cooking manages to lull him.