When Lee offers to sleep on the couch, Molly doesn't protest. All things considered, after a day spent mostly avoiding each other, it just makes sense, even with her a hell of a lot calmer than she was this morning, even when the fact that Lee is still here has done a lot for her peace of mind. She still doesn't really know how to be around him, or how to deal with his having left the night before, or how they're supposed to move forward from here, when she has no fucking idea what to do. The bag she'd started to pack a day ago has stayed only half-full, though, left in a corner of the bedroom when she finally emerged after pulling herself together earlier. She's not sure why she hasn't made herself unpack it. Maybe because things still feel so fucking wrong, or maybe because, in spite of his being here now, and having told her that he's not going anywhere, she's not entirely convinced that she isn't going to be left on her own with this again. Though she couldn't blame him if he did want to leave, the one thing she can be sure of is that she doesn't want that to be the case. That probably ought to be incentive to make things right, but she wouldn't for the life of her know where to start. As it is, the only reason she isn't the one sleeping on the couch is because he beat her to it.

Sometime after midnight, she starts to regret that. The night before, strange as it is, had been significantly easier, with her dozing off on the couch after drinking what was left of a bottle of scotch. Now, fully sober and alone in their bed, she's restless, alternately staring at the ceiling and tossing and turning, checking the clock on her phone every once in a while only to find that a lot less time has passed than it seems like. With the way her thoughts won't stop racing, it makes sense, but it's fucking agonizing, too. She almost wishes she'd been the one sleeping in the living room, but she's also not sure what difference it would have made. Not being in here alone might have helped a little, but the real problem is bigger than that.

It's also something she can do something about. By the time she gives in and realizes it, it's well after midnight, but she isn't too concerned about that as she makes her way out of the bedroom and down the hall, pausing in the doorway to the living room. This might well be a bad fucking idea, but she doesn't know what else to do, and she has to try. They can't just avoid each other forever, or, at least, she hopes it won't come to that. Pissed off or not, she only has been in the first place because she wanted him here, and now he is.

"Lee?" she calls, her voice small and uncertain as it cuts through the dark living room. "I can't sleep."