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Lysithea's arms are crossed beneath her head, hair and veil pooling over them. Her paperwork is piled beneath them in turn, splodges of ink staining her sleeves and hands alike. Despite her repeated attempts to convince people otherwise, it is very apparent that she snores - quietly, sure, but the noises match exactly with when her hair over her face lifts and falls.
Knowing how twitchy she can be, Balthus mostly expects her to wake just from him leaning against the door-frame. There's not a peep from her, though, not even the slightest hitch in the snoring.
He gives her a minute, maybe two, before hiding a laugh in a sigh, and shaking his head.
"Well then, Little Lady Ordelia. What are we going to do with you?"
The sensible thing to do - the one that definitely does not end in his uniform on fire - is to just leave her be. Pretend he never saw this, and move on. That is far from who Balthus is, however; he will forget and he will tease, and she will be just as angry in the future as she would be now.
Also, sleeping like that? She's going to hurt herself. They're sort of tangled up in the middle of the war, and fighting with a sore back... She probably could, Balthus reasons, but not without compromising herself. At this point all of them must be considered experienced in combat, but Lysithea is definitely shielded from the worst of it. She hates it, of course, only begrudgingly accepting the reason that mages are best from the back, serving approximately as artillery. Of anyone were to mention it being in part because how small and young she is?
Balthus tried it, once, and is sort of surprised he still has a head.
The sensible solution to this conundrum would probably be to wake her, a prod to the shoulder or a calling of her name. Balthus, however, has never been accused of being a sensible man; he thinks for all of about half a second before striding forward.
When Lysithea does not awaken from his heavy footsteps, he leans down, pulls the quill from her ink-stained fingers, and scoops her into his arms. Still she does not awaken, hanging there sound asleep.
Balthus gives a small laugh at how the little lady continues to snore, draped over his arms, and marches her off towards her room.
By the time he reaches Lysithea's bedroom, Balthus is genuinely worried that she might be sick or cursed or something. Her breathing has barely broken its pattern despite the staircase and the cold air, and if she did hex herself he would have expected her to do it somewhere a little mote comfortable.
Then again, it would be just like Lysithea to sleep on her work, purely so she did not have to waste time walking back to it the next morning.
Eh. He's being chewed out for this anyway; what does Balthus actually care.
Upon reaching Lysithea's room, Balthus finds the door locked. Smashing it open would definitely be counterproductive, which leaves him looting Lysithea's pockets while also trying to hold her. He finds some spare buttons, a bag of sweetmeats, and a crumbled and water-ruined note before he finds her keys, and in his elation at his success he nearly misses how she awakens.
Only nearly; it is a little difficult to miss how she shrieks, claws, and tries to immediately break out.
Good instincts, but far too late if he was actually kidnapping her.
"Calm down," he tells her, trying to keep her wriggling form from plummeting into the cobbles. "I'm just taking you to bed, Little Lady."
A hiss, and then a cry of "Balthus!" no quieter than her shriek. "Why would you-?! What!"
She has stilled somewhat, though her cheeks and ears have taken on an amusing red. Knowing that he will struggle with the lock at this ankle, he sets her back on her feet - and then, unable to quite resist it, pats the top of her head.
His hand is slapped, and Lysithea does glare at him, but Balthus struggles to do anything but laugh at the expression. She looks very like an angry squirrel, and has done nothing to ever dissuade that opinion.
Rather than address her questions, he unlocks her door and pushes the door open. With a wide gesture and a low bow he gestures to the inside, and gives a deliberately annoying "your room, Lady Ordelia."
For a good few moments, neither of them move. It is Lysithea who breaks first, however, huffing before stomping inside. She goes to slam the door, then seems to think better of it, and glares at Balthus instead.
"That was- That was /demeaning/! What did you think you were doing, carrying me like that?! If someone saw you-"
"I was just looking out for you. Those magic tomes you use are heavy," genuinely so - Balthus is always surprised when he has to pack them into the convoy, "and sleeping like that wasn't going to do any good for your back."
He tosses her her keys, along with everything else he took from her pockets.
It does not stop the furious shade of red that she has taken on.
"Fine!" He can imagine her just five years ago, stomping her foot at that. Now, however, she refrains. "But yiu should have woken me."
"I carried you from the library to here, and you were still asleep. You weren't waking up."
"Well, well-" clearly she has little steam right now, stammering as she is, and even that broken by a poorly disguised yawn. "I demand an apology."
Ah, well, Balthus knows how this goes. He can indulge her a little more; she's cute when she flusters, and there's no harm in scoffing down a cake or two when you can. Gotta keep their energy up for all the fighting, and that.
"From the kitchens?" He asks, as though he did not already know.
"You know what I like by now," she tells him. "So, pick well."
"As you command, Little Lady."
Balthus is a little surprised she has no reply to that, but then he has seen the bags under all of their eyes; she shuts her door with a little more respect to her neighbors than earlier screeching implied, and he heads down to the kitchens.
By the time Balthus returns, a plate of cupcakes in hands, he finds Lysithea once again asleep. She is still in her day clothes, but she at least made it to the bed; he leaves the cakes on the dresser, throws a blanket over her, and leaves.
Then, realising, he goes back in, grabs the key, leaves, locks her door - she always sleeps with a locked door - then shoves the key back under the door.