[ He starts awake when touched, alarming the cat curled under his chin; he presses his lips to the crown of its little head to calm it down, momentarily mistaking it for the owner of the hand to the back of his neck. Once lucidity sets in, enough for him to piece together that Max the tuxedo cat is not, in fact, Astarion, he grunts and ushers the furry creature onto the floor to make more space for his cat on the mattress.

Sitting up: ] Seems I don't trance well without the right cat by my side. [ His voice is a low croak, but his posture is steady. ] ...Was I out long?

[ An hour? Two? He's lost all sense of time, but the way his stomach growls at the scent of food tells him that it's been long enough since his last meal. The fact that he has an appetite despite his light fever is a good thing, at least. ]

―I would say that we should leave after I finish eating, but I've no idea what the state of affairs is like outside.