Elena moves into his hold, pressing her face into the crook of his neck the way she's done so many times. An arm instinctively goes around his waist to bring him closer, breathing in deep. "You smell nice," she mumbles into his skin, but she doesn't open her eyes. It's hard to tell whether she's a moment from falling back to sleep or going to drowsily sustain a conversation.

Sleep itself hasn't come easily to her, despite her exhaustion. It needs to either sneak up on her or hit her like a ton of bricks. The latter is what happened earlier, when she fell into some kind of slumbering coma. She imagines he didn't stray too far.

If Damon had been already hovering and overprotective (which he was), that's only doubled after what happened with Freya's mirror. And right now she feels no need to have a discussion about that. She just wants to keep things close to home for a little bit.

She wants to hold and be held, just like this.