Ethan, his usually loud, obnoxious, arrogant self- was now sat on his bed in his room, waking up from a good night's rest. Or whatever he called a good night's rest, anyway. The only dreams he ever remembered or consciously had were nightmares.

He sat up in his king-sized bed, the comforter sliding down from his shoulder to expose his shirtless figure. Toned and scarred, but nothing too crazy.

The mercenary yawned, and then stretched. He normally didn't wake up at 9:08 in the morning. Especially in the winter, on a Saturday. He didn't even have anything to do today.

"Do.. I have anything to do today?"

Fuck if I know. All I want right now is coffee.