"There's a chair, and the couch," he agrees. "I'm used to the cushions anyway." His bed on the floor is an optimal recreation of his narrow space in the window, which was itself a recreation of narrow beds back home, made more so by holding all of his books and half of his clothes. One thing the house hasn't been since he moved in is definitely tidy.

Jude gives it another moment, another few breaths in the dark. There's a distant glow to guide them back, firelight through sheets and curtains, around a corner, but he doesn't want to drag Bodhi anywhere he might not want to be. With no one to lead though, they'll just stay out in the cold; Jude takes the first step back around the edges of the table, pauses, moves again only when Bodhi decides to follow.

Without knowing how to admit upset, there's no way to explain he isn't upset with Bodhi. He just needs to bury it further down with all the rest.