[ At the very least, whatever misgivings Stelle may have about Aventurine, his memory isn't one of them; he's way too clever to be forgetful. So unless he's lying, nothing happened, and whether she ought to or not, she does trust him. Call it her Trailblazer intuition...or her confidence that she can handle him in a fight. Emanators need not intervene.

So, that being the case, the only unanswered question is how she got into his bed in the first place — or is it hers? It doesn't really matter, nor does she care, because now that the adrenaline is wearing off, a throb of pain through her head sharply reminds her that she's hungover as hell. How much did she even drink last night? However long last night was?

A long, drawn-out groan escapes her, turning her head enough to peer at him through her curtain of messy bedhead. ]

...but can spooning you cure a hangover? [ yes she is assigning herself to big spoon ] 'M not trying to be my charming self, I'm being so real right now.

[ She never realized before there could be too much partying, but here she is. Lifting her head just slightly with one elbow tucked beneath it, she pushes her hair out of her face with her free hand. ]

Aren't you feeling it, too? Don't tell me you're one of those annoying people who wake up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after a night at the bar.