Stephen felt only a twinge of guilt for leaving her "alone" for the night. He didn't think his brother would harm her, but he didn't want to force her into vulnerability either. And, surely, their mother would have both of their heads for "arranging it" or how she would call it at least. Once the door was shut behind him he walked on, back to the comfort and silence of his own, solitary bedroom.
Idris, however, was fitful despite his exhaustion from his trip. He fell silent and just stared at the ceiling as she moved about and adjusted something out of his view between them. Shifting as close to the edge of the bed as possible, he gradually allowed his eyes to rest. It was only a moment, though, before he felt her presence there and he flinched instinctively for her poking. Jumping only slightly, though, his eyes shot open and he lifted his head to stare at her there in the darkness.
Watching what movement he could see, Idris leaned to sit up slightly, propping himself up by his elbow and ready to leave if she demanded it of him, as he expected she might do. Instead, though, she was saying a word. More specifically, it was the name Stephen claimed was her own. Seeing how she pointed at herself, he tiredly lifted a hand to point at her as well, though he had no idea how her eyesight was in such darkness. "So you are Vanora?" he said.
For a moment he just stared, wondering if she really knew anything else in Common, though he didn't doubt she knew the language he'd heard her speak as it seemed nothing like anything he had ever heard before. "Vanora," he repeated, the word coming slowly and heavily from his lips. Slowly, as to not alarm her, he twisted his lazy, limp wrist on himself to touch at his breast. "Idris," he told her. "My name is Idris. Would you like me...Idris, to leave, Vanora?"