Late mornings were rare, at least for himself. To speak for his King, though, Charon knew better. Though the barriers between them were few and becoming fewer, he had no desire to cross any previously unknown line, and fall from the precarious pillar of favor he'd manage to raise himself on. Bare feet found plush carpet as he turned to sit upright; the couch he found himself on more often than not was on the pricier end, but without crossing too far over the boundary between form and function. It served his purposes well enough; somewhere to sleep when he wasn't invited to stay with Hades, or was otherwise indisposed.
Bare as the dawn, he took careful steps toward where most of his clothes were kept, rifling around the coat closet for a pair of jeans that weren't too worn-in. Rather than replace his wardrobe, he'd simply use everything until there wasn't anything left but scraps held together by dreams. He thought they were more comfortable, that way.
The next part of his morning either went well, or horribly, both depending on the state of his Lord and any of his...guests, would there be any. Hades' bedroom door was opened gently, and Charon stayed in the doorway in naught but the faded jeans he'd stepped into.
"--my King," he managed through a sleep-strained voice. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "King Hades, the car can be ready in less than ten minutes. Do you have plans?"
