Her head jerks up as if she's been pulled by invisible strings and she stares at him for a moment, unable or unwilling to let those words sink in enough to become true. The idea of sleep being safe has been such a foreign one for so long now that she can't wrap her mind around the feeling that's trying to make itself known, a feeling strong enough that she has to cling to the bars to keep from crumpling to the floor with it.

Relief.

She could sleep. If she trusted her captors -- if she trusted Ronan, which despite everything she still did. He'd never been the problem. Not unless she dug too deeply into the implications of what Bryde was to him, but that was a knot she'd never even managed to fully untie between herself and the girls. It certainly isn't one she's up to doing here, running on zero sleep and behind bars.

Another second and the impossible happens: Hennessy smiles. It's not the bright, winning smile she puts on when she's trying to charm, though it's not far removed from that. She just thinks he deserves something closer to the truth, all things considered.

"Well, hell, Lynch. Think you could've wandered down here a little sooner?"