The two were gone much longer than an average shift, but nothing was all that average for Guardians. Declan had a lot of ground to over, but for the first time in all his days as a Guardian, he hurried through it instead of sauntering about. He cleared out the old air base, sorted through the wreckage, worked with Ghost on powering up an old relay, fought off an infestation of Fallen and rolled back into the apartment as the sun was coming up. He was beaten, battered, his armor scratched and scuffed and burned, but he came home with a bag containing eggs, bacon, a fresh, real tomato, an onion and some cheese, all suggestions made by his fireteam on the way home.

Carefully storing everything away in the fridge, Declan then wandered to the couch, stared down at it and promptly collapsed across it, burying his face out of the way of the sun creeping into the apartment. Booted feet hanging well over the end, he curled slightly and tucked his arms against his chest, falling asleep on the spot. Ghost hovered briefly nearby before sighing and drifting off to gaze out the window at the Traveler, as many Ghosts and some few Guardians often did. That left Aoba to wake and work as he saw fit while Declan caught a quick nap, worn out, worked hard and obviously beaten more than a little over the course of his patrol, which might have sounded innocuous enough.