[There... is a certain long suffering sigh to be heard, from someone in the lobby. Not loud enough to wake anyone up, but still enough to convey 'this is hardly becoming of a student.'

Least of all someone she's seen before, in passing, in the library. And as such holds a decent opinion of.

What stops Michelle from prodding him to move into his own room is, well... she may not be in the floral club, but she has had her fair share of surprises this week. And that's extended to a certain degree of sympathy and empathy for similarly exhausted people.]

"I'm not going to tell you to get up. However... wait a moment."

[There's the sound of a some footsteps moving across the floor, fading, and then coming back. Followed by the 'thump' of something getting set on the floor, and the aroma of some sort of left over french onion soup that's been warmed up in a microwave.]

"If you're awake enough... I suggest that you try getting something in your stomach. And perhaps find a better resting spot, to keep the circulation from getting cut off to your hands and feet."

[Apparently though, sympathy can only go so far before she feels compelled to give some advice.]