Questions, Questions [Mickey, Vin] [Takes place a few hours after
this.]
Mickey rolls over in place, a squirming-shifting maneuver perfected by most people who've spent a lot of time fitting a six-plus body in a single bed. He ends up sort of half on his stomach and snuggled down with the covers tight around him before realizing that no part of him is hanging off the edge of the mattress. And then that the mattress is actually, like, comfortable. Firm and giving in perfect proportion. And then that there's a source of warmth nearby, like, within inches.
Huh? he thinks, blinking sleepily. Sleep at the club? Work!
His eyes snap open and he's instantly on his hands and knees looking around for a clock before he remembers that there's one on his wrist. He squints at it and sees that he has plenty of time, and flops back down into the warm comfort of the bed.
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