When he starts his weary way home, it's already the afternoon. He feels less like he's going to break apart right this second, but he's still running on fumes, and so when he opens the door to House 20 and slumps down onto the couch, it's clear he's exhausted.

But he still can't sleep yet. He doesn't trust it. He'll be out here in the living room, staring at the ceiling and bouncing his foot on the ground in order to stay awake. Too tired to do anything else, really.