Sleep was uncertain, because I'd forgotten I'd left the rock that I hold on the floor, so it sat there, cooling to stone temperature half the night. I clutched only the lightsaber, and the surges and eddies of night-energy linked and grounded both through the bond, instead of just linked, which made both my morning and his tumultuous. It's not polite to ground through the link.
When I did remember the stone, it was cold rock in my hand long before it finally warmed up to liquid magic.
Breakfast is crap-in-a-can, and the holographic etching around the pop-top reminds me, yet again, that it's in the little things. I make sure that my bag of random notes and my bag of shinies is in my work-carryall.