(Untitled)

[ruinous_fortune]

He's asleep.

Sleeping the sleep of the once-truly drunk.

His left arm is slung heavily over her stomach so she's held tightly against him.

Ruin, newly married and still very much passed out, is blissfully ignorant of their previous activities.

Comments

[song_tra_bong]

Someone is banging a hammer on the inside of her skull.

A very large hammer.

Or possibly a spiked mace.

Mary Anne hates hangovers.

She mumbles something to herself and stretches, making no effort to disentangle herself from her bed partner. At least not until she looks at her left hand.

She picks his arm up off her stomach and looks at his left hand. Then back at hers. His. Hers.

"Ciaran," she says with something like panic in her voice.

"Wake up. Now."

[ruinous_fortune]

He mumbles something before turning onto his stomach, rubbing his face in the pillow, and settling back into sleep.

If he wakes up, the hangover will get him.

So, he chooses (as much as he can) not to wake up.

[song_tra_bong]

If he doesn't wake up, Mary Anne will get him.

"Ciaran! Wake up!"

She punches him in the shoulder to emphasise her point.

[ruinous_fortune]

"Ow!" he snaps, finally sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "What the hell you do that for?"