She watches him while he sleeps, peering up at his large form while listening to the sounds of his slumber. Even when he does shift slightly, she doesn't feel even a flicker of fear that he would move so much as to hurt her — she trusts his systems to sense her there, whether or not that trust is misguided. So she notices when he begins to wake, and when he finally gives her that drowsy smile, she can't help but give him one back.

"Good morning," she replies, thinking that she should move away so she might better see him but far too comfortable to actually do so. "You slept well."

It's an observation, not a question.