[ She may still be waking up, but her wit is quick enough at least to recognize the duality of meaning in their statements: the Lacking General using strange to mean an unusual combination and the Dozing General choosing deliberately—she's quite sure it's a deliberate choice—to take the word more personally.

And where anyone else might simper, apologize for any apparent miscommunication, Feixiao just grins. Two can play at that game. ]

Oh, but you are indeed, Jing Yuan. Unless of course you're implying we've woken up like this before.

[ The laughter that follows—her own—makes her head ring with its suddenness; between that and the general's question, it serves as a reminder to actually stop and think and scan, to mentally feel out each part of her body in turn. Head, and shoulders, knees, and toes, and of course there's an ache in her skull, a dull and throbbing feeling she's felt for far too many mornings in the past.

The food will probably help, and it smells delightful—but also, the food means moving. And, strange bedfellows or not, she's comfortable.

The smile she offers him is wry. ]

I'd be lying if I said my head isn't hurting like someone drove a starskiff into its side. But that will pass. What about you—did you drink?