He saw the scar again and took note as he climbed in with her, careful not to press too close or get too eager. Carson made himself comfortable, which wasn't difficult. Blankets and a proper mattress were foreign to him. Foreign, but welcome. "From what I've seen and what little I do know, he was a good man," he responded softly. He wasn't sure how well Oliver would have responded to<i>this</i>set of circumstances had he been alive, but Carson didn't dwell on it. Instead he closed in to kiss her again, brief and soft and full, then settled down against the pillows, folding one arm beneath the pillow to better support his head.<br/><br/>"Once we've both got a decent amount of sleep," he murmured, his other hand lifting to stroke her side and her back, mindful of the scar, "I'd like to know what happened that gave you that long wound on your back. It couldn't have been too long ago. No need to dive in now if you're too tired, I just wanted to make a note now."