Rogue has a hundred little tells.

Her fingers tuck back the wayward strands of white instead of her blowing them away from her face. She leans one hip against the wall or a piece of furniture, one hand on the other. Remy follows the line with his eyes. Her mouth closes straight without its sassy curves. She says 'mm-hmm' instead of 'sure, sugar.'

That's when Remy catches her and tucks her into bed.

She tells him she's fine, but he ignores her heated protests, silencing them with kisses, then stays with her watching until she drifts slowly away to sleep.