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You knock on her door twice.
She opens it almost immediately.
You don't share words. Your face is enough— a soft smile, a hint of an apology in your eye. She doesn't have to ask and you don't have to tell. With a shift of her feet she shuffles backwards, allowing you entry. She closes the door only once she's confident you're inside.
It's become routine to find her door at the peak of night. You aren't sure when it started— honestly, it's been so long that this has felt like an always more than a when— but one night you'd approached her door, an apology on your digital tongue, and she'd let you in without a lick of judgment. Just like that.
It's kind of her. You know, at some point, it would've proved as pity; she's been here longer than you, though you aren't new. Your time here has admittedly gotten worse, however— every adventure drives you mad, every shove of a clingy ringleader kicking your morale lower and lower. The nights are cold and isolating. Searching for something warm and inviting was only natural, you'd convinced yourself of it— hell would run cold if you'd spent yet another solitary night in the four walls you'd been assigned.
And you'd figured, hey, you get along well with Ragatha. She's confided in you once or twice and you've done the same. She understands in a way that's somewhat distancing, but she does her best to close it if possible. After all, her positivity might be suffocating at times, but she appears to dial it down a peg if you note it out to her. That is, significantly if.
In the crux of the night, you don't need to think on if. When you make your way to her bed, you wait for a moment. She follows you quietly, her steps barely rendering sound, and pulls back the covers for you in the usual way that makes you warm. It doesn't take long for you to find your place in the sheets, taking up more space than you'd like, though she's told you many a time that she hasn't an issue with it in the slightest.
It's kind. Too kind of her, you know this. But, in a way, you don't feel too bad. With the way she sinks underneath the covers beside you, her arms wrapping around you as she allows herself this one thing— you know it's indulgent on her end too.
You'd never intended for it to be more than just sleep, but if you'd have to go without the plush woman sharing a bed for a night to come, there'd be several complaints. On your end and hers, you're sure.
Neither of you have ever directly mentioned any of it either. When mornings come the next day, neither of you share a conversation of it. It goes completely unspoken. Not because it was embarrassing or vulnerable, but because there wasn't much to say in the first place.
In an environment like this, with people around that comprehend the gripping loneliness that comes with living among the same faces day in-day out, it's understandable to crave something soft.
Ragatha's more than soft. She's gentle— sincere. With a tender hand you run down her arm, feeling the doll's pliable skin. She doesn't say anything if she likes or dislikes it, her subtle shuffling beside you not telling you much aside from a craving for comfort. Your hand shifts up, gently resting at her head, beginning a slight rub from side-to-side. Ragatha leans into it with a content sigh.
It's easier to rest with her beside you. She breathes steadily, falling asleep rather quickly, and you follow suit without much trouble. It's even easier to maintain rest with her— there's been several times where you're the first to wake up, only to then indulge in sleep a little more because she remains with you.
Neither of you leave the bed until you have to, adventures demanding the two of you effort inevitably. Sometimes you resist, sometimes you comply— it's usually in-line with Ragatha's decision. That much also goes unspoken, though you're certain she's noticed. Her curious smiles in your direction aren't unseen by you.
Regardless. It doesn't matter; the madness of the circus is made easier in her guidance— and not only that, but in her arms, too. You've proved that theory rather effortlessly, as much as you hadn't intended to.
But perhaps you might try to further it in the future. There's no harm in mutual indulgence, is there?