A few seconds of standing there, not responding to the brow quirk at all (whether he saw it in the first place is debatable) and he trots in with a yawn and a grunt of thanks. It's another few seconds before he bothers with the door, head cocked as he wonders if he was interrupting something or if the sudden cleaning is because he's present.

His eyes snap up at the question and he crosses his arms as he hovers by the door, biting on the inside of his cheek.

"Too hard to sleep in there."

Although he's not really sure how much luck he'll have in here, even if it's worked before - hours of feeling like he's being stared at have him solidly creeped out. He takes a few steps toward the couch, hovers there, too, finally perches himself on one of the arms. It's not really sitting.