💤 For whoever needs it the most at the moment
Takes place in the past
Sir must have left the drapes open when he went down to his office for his first meeting. A stripe of sunlight sharp as a blade cuts into Baldur's dreams, and he winces, cracking his eyelids only to throw an arm over his face to block it out.
He can hear, muffled, the gardener's radio playing somewhere down below. It's pop music, but different somehow, and Baldur listens for a while, drifting in a place of half-sleep, half-waking.
These boots were made for walkin', and that's just what they'll do-
He groans, and rolls away, pulling Sir's heavy, soft blankets up over his head. It cocoons him again in the blissful darkness.
He hears Miss Nancy open the door, at some point. There's a long silence, and he carefully changes his breathing to be heavy, deep and even, ignoring the sudden race of his heartbeat, swallowing again and again to feel the collar buckled safely around his neck.
"Lazy bones," Miss Nancy mutters, and the door closes again.
Baldur exhales, stifling his urge to giggle by pressing his hands over his mouth, rocking in the bed where he lays on his side in a burst of welcome energy.
He goes quiet, again, after a while. It's warm under the blankets, and it makes him feel fuzzy and sleepy again. He tries to slide back into the dream he'd left, one of a woman who smiled kindly at him and told him things he didn't understand.
It doesn't matter what he dreams, really, just that he can go back to sleep again.
The longer he takes to wake up, the longer he goes between pills, the better he'll feel.