It is cosy, snug and comfortable as he comes to, so he presses his head harder into the pillow rather than opening his eyes. Scorpius is completely woven in; in feathers, in vines, somewhere in a sun-drenched land so tawdry it can only be the remnants of a dream; a clear creek, a rainbow, butterflies, a warm breeze - and a soft snore that clearly does not belong to this dream.