He's not meant to be hungover.

He thinks to himself as he wakes up. He is a devil, not a devil but THE devil. His head throbbing in pain. To his shock, he actually feels the need to puke. Oh god, how can humans beat with this???

He immediately gets up from the bed and runs to the bathroom desperately needing to kiss the porcelain goddess in which the mortals call 'puking in the toilet'.

After kissing the porcelain goddess (aka puking in the toilet), he looks up in the mirror at himself. He looks rough. Like, rough, rough. What in the hell has happened to his perfect jawline and facial structure. Looks like he's been beaten up.

He sighs as he goes to clean himself. He takes a long, steamy shower to wash the sins off, brushing his teeth for 10 minutes, taking the sweet, sweet time to do his skincare, spritzing on some perfume on himself, (not Dior Sauvage you simple minded fool) and hopping out of the bathroom to get dressed up when he sees... a figure in his bed... a woman...

A woman he doesn't remember!

She's blissfully asleep, unaware of the massive shitstorm he's running inside his brain. Then, he finds traces of... hick- AHEM, AHEM. Lovebites on her back and neck. Huh, and he wondered why had scratches on his back when he showered a few minutes prior.

He contemplates whether to wake you up or not. Afterall, he can't possibly face you. He thinks of fleeing from the scene but however, this is his penthouse. Not yours so is in a doozy.