Annabelle's been fading in and out of wakefulness, definitely basking in the luxury of a late morning to its fullest extent like some giant, overgrown cat, soaking up the sun's dusty, groggy rays. She's roused for the fourth time or so when Lauren greets her, and she responds by turning her head to look at him over her shoulder with a sleepy smile. Simultaneously, she stretches her long limbs with a contented grunt.

"Morning," she replies, melting back into a cozy slump after her stretch. "Have you already prayed?"