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I adjust the pillow behind his shoulder so the restraint doesn’t tug if he rolls over.

“You’ve got enough room to sleep on either side. Don’t wrap the chain around your arm.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Never said you were.”

“You imply it a lot.”

“No. I implied that you make questionable decisions under stress. I think under normal conditions, you’re very smart.”

His lips flatten. He studies the seam of the blanket instead of looking at me. “‘Kay.”

Odd response, but I know he’s not used to people complimenting him. Compliments from Sherry would’ve come with strings; compliments from strangers would’ve been rare, and compliments from the men in his life were probably rarer still, and possibly condescending.

I shake myself out of that train of thought and tell Kamden, “I’m going to leave for a bit. Why don’t you try to take a nap?”

“I’m probably not going to.”

“Then lie there and think terrible things about me quietly.”

“I can do that,” he whispers, making my lip quirk up.

I start toward the door, intending to give him some space. But as I reach the doorway and put my hand on the door handle, he calls out softly, “Adrien?”

I stop and turn around.

He’s looking down at his hands again. The rabbit is bunched in his lap, and he’s running one finger along its worn seam as if reading braille on it.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

There’s clearly something.

But one of the things I just told him is that being honest doesn’t mean I get to pry into every thought before he’s ready to share it with me.

So I nod. “Alright.”

I step out, close the door behind me, and lock it.

I make it to the kitchen before I start thinking about rewards. Good behavior should be rewarded. If the rules only have consequences when he fucks up, then they aren’t rules. They’re threats dressed up nicely.

Kamden answered questions he didn’t want to answer. He admitted when he was afraid. He listened even when he was pissed at me. He told me he needed the bathroom, even though it embarrassed him, and more importantly, he didn’t make another break for the door the second I took him into the hallway.

He tried, and as I told him, that counts.

I open the refrigerator, searching, but there’s nothing particularly rewarding there. Sure, there’s plenty of food in there for meals and snacks, but who wants a mozzarella stick or an apple as a reward?

Probably normal captives.

I open the freezer next, frosted air rolling out over my hand and forearm. And there we go. I knew the ice cream would come in handy.

I take it out, then hesitate, because ice cream is fine, but not enough. It’s temporary, gone in a few minutes. He’ll probably like it, but Kamden needs something more.

Paper.

He needs paper.