Gilbert slept soundly in his bed. He looked to be at peace. The bed felt great, the sheets and blankets were clean. He was the type to sleep nude, because he was the kind who sweated a lot while sleeping.
He didn't look as dangerous, he looked defenseless and vulnerable. He laid on his back, his chest was almost entirely visible.
His chest rose at regular and even intervals, but the breathing was slowly picking up. Within minutes his breathing could be heard from outside the room, the pillow was drenched in sweat.
He awoke at the same time as when his door opened. He was still disoriented, but he knew, that the dream had gotten the better of him again.
"Are you okay, Master?" Trent asked him. He already had towels at the ready as if this was a regular occurrence.
He grabbed the towel annoyed. "I'm fine." He confirmed wiping himself dry. They were happening more frequently than before and he explained it away by the fact that he was getting old.
