Plourr wakes up at an ungodly hour of the morning with a cool head and a slightly blurry memory of the evening before. She stares at the ceiling a moment, then comes to the decision that she finally feels a little better. She blows her nose, then rolls slowly out of bed and picks up a robe from the floor, slipping it on and stepping out of the bedchamber.
She stops short in the doorway, one hand still frozen over her yawn.
Why the kriff is there a count passed out at her desk?
It takes her a moment to take in the neat stacks of flimsi that had been wildly scattered the night before. And the datapad at his hand.
Her face softens. He may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's a damn good man. She doesn't dare raise his head to put a pillow under it, but she does drop a blanket over him.
no subject
Plourr wakes up at an ungodly hour of the morning with a cool head and a slightly blurry memory of the evening before. She stares at the ceiling a moment, then comes to the decision that she finally feels a little better. She blows her nose, then rolls slowly out of bed and picks up a robe from the floor, slipping it on and stepping out of the bedchamber.
She stops short in the doorway, one hand still frozen over her yawn.
Why the kriff is there a count passed out at her desk?
It takes her a moment to take in the neat stacks of flimsi that had been wildly scattered the night before. And the datapad at his hand.
Her face softens. He may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he's a damn good man. She doesn't dare raise his head to put a pillow under it, but she does drop a blanket over him.
She creeps away on bare feet.