That will take some doing, though he is just tired enough that some of the walls he's put up might ease. It is all too simple for him to slip into stoicism, put that marble statue facade up --he is not used to fragility. The closest he has gotten is times like these, where he is exhausted and doesn't quite know what to do with himself, or at the barricades, which he still does not have words for. In any case, he is uncomplainingly bundled up to his room --which Laertes will find is spartan for the most part, though there is a painting of eight familiar young men in a cafe hung on the wall. There is a small table and comfortable chair off to the side of the bed, but other than that it's bare.