Put “Good Morning” in my inbox for my muse’s reaction to waking up in bed with yours with no memory of the night before.
Different than most days, there was no chill creeping down in a spine that wasn't actually make him cold, but it was neither a decent feeling to wake up with. This time might have also be particular because of another source of warmth then the heater close to the window, in fact, another body close to his own. Only a thin sheet and an arm would cover his own body, most of it resting against the other male instead of the mattress. Taste of wine and something different lingering on his lips, the scent of expensive perfume and smoke filling his nostrils while the sun would not stop to bother him through his lids.
« Good morning, » a reply formed due to a previous greeting by a familiar voice, and upon recognition a twisted smile would cross his features, a mixture of confirmed foreboding and unsure how to react correctly. « I am unable to recall a single thing from the moment I drank that scotch and it is probably your fault. »
Contrary to his words his voice would not indicate no criticism, instead he sounded amused, not moving and inch away from the bartender, rather getting even closer.
