She doesn't push him off or tense up under him so he relaxes the rest of the way, taking her silence as permission and his ears droop comically off to the sides. There aren't many times he gets to just be. He always feels as if he should be pushing himself, as if he's not doing enough, as if there's more he should be doing and so even when he's still, inside him rarely is. This way though...

He's a dog. What can you expect out of a dog?

He'd be better at making the people he cares about happy if he was a dog.

So he just huffs out a soft sound and a moment later, he lifts his head from her leg enough to yawn, a wide out, lip stretching yawn of complete relaxation. With a soft rumble in his chest he settles his head back down on her again and rubs his chin until he's found the perfect spot, nose almost touching her knee.

He hopes that's answer enough.