Still half asleep and drooling into a crumpled pillow, Dante snorts and starts. He jerks half up to a seated position even before he's awake enough to comprehend that that particular angry, loud voicing yelling at him is Jason. As if it would be anyone else.
Eyes still squeezed shut under impressively disheveled hair, Dante eases the rest of the way up to a seat at the edge of the bed. Yawning mightily, he rubs at his eyes, not yet daring to peel them open.
"War Boys?" comes out scratchy but bemused, but he's aWake enough to stand up and stretch his arms out above his head, curl his toes in the carpet. Anything but cover himself. "What are you, forty?"
so did mine it's fine
Fucking knock.
Still half asleep and drooling into a crumpled pillow, Dante snorts and starts. He jerks half up to a seated position even before he's awake enough to comprehend that that particular angry, loud voicing yelling at him is Jason. As if it would be anyone else.
Eyes still squeezed shut under impressively disheveled hair, Dante eases the rest of the way up to a seat at the edge of the bed. Yawning mightily, he rubs at his eyes, not yet daring to peel them open.
"War Boys?" comes out scratchy but bemused, but he's aWake enough to stand up and stretch his arms out above his head, curl his toes in the carpet. Anything but cover himself. "What are you, forty?"