🥺🥺🥺

[ she did feel someone tug at her hair in the midst of her slumber; there may be a lot of it, but she's a little sensitive when it comes to have anything to do with her hair. call it an intuition of sorts. last thing she wants is to have someone cut a lock of it and show it off to her boss, as an example. wouldn't that be fucked up?

she does stay still as instructed -- not like she can go anywhere with this crippling migraine anyway. in another life, headaches like these would've been commonplace for her. she focuses a bleary eye on the other man, brows furrowed together in suspicion. why is he doing this like he's done this before... 🧍‍♂️ ]

Please... tell me we didn't do anything weird last night. I don't even know who you are.

[ upon opening her mouth to speak, she realizes how parched she is after drinking like a sailor the night prior. sorry, she's going to shift in her bed and attempt to sit up after all. ]