He scooted over so she had room, for one of the desks stood just left of him. His pistol he'd opened up to dry was to his right, though far away from the fire for obvious reasons. "Don't let the Scars fool you," he told her. "I'm not always covered in dirt and blood. Just more than I'd like." He smiled, his eyes now closed again. 

Her explanation seemed sound. Even as tiredness overtook him, a few years of serving on campaign made him a good, alert listener despite his body language screaming the opposite. "Looks like you have it all figured out, your Ladyship. Cam, sorry." He breathed. He corrected himself. "Camilla." He paused for a moment, and then thought aloud. "Yeah, that's a sign I'm sleepy. Just make sure you wake me up the second you want to sleep, deal?" 

Minutes later, he'd fallen asleep. His sleeping pattern was a huge contradiction. Either he slept far too lightly, or he slept like a rock. Depended on his circumstances. One would think traveling as an outlaw would have him sleep lightly and at the ready, but the safety of the 'tomb' they were in, the pretty woman beside him, the fire, and most importantly...the lack of any military cohesion, had knocked him out cold. 
[@Penny]