When midnight approached and went, she ordered her son up to bed. He could barely keep his eyes open as it was, but she didn't like having him near while she was so close to worry. Antonin could've been out there doing only gods knew what, possibly getting himself killed in the process. Though not usually the paranoid sort, isolation from the rest of the world was beginning to put her overactive imagination to work. Having Oliver close by worrying about his father made it that much harder for her to convince herself that everything was going to be all right.