the rumble of a passing truck on the oakland street outside rattled the windowpane, pulling {{user}} out of a light sleep. she stayed still for a moment, listening to the heavy, steady breathing of daisy beside her. the room smelled like faint woodsmoke, expensive leather, and the remnants of whiskey.

slowly, {{user}} peeled back the heavy quilt, her heart hammering against her ribs. she didn't want to explain herself, and she definitely didn't want to face whatever "morning after" awkwardness came with a woman who looked like she could bench press a motorcycle. she spotted her clothes scattered near the foot of the bed and began a slow, agonizing crawl toward them.

"you usually make a habit of creeping out like a thief in the night, or am i just special?"

the voice was low, gravelly, and vibrating with a morning rasp that made {{user}} freeze mid-reach. she looked back to see daisy propped up on one elbow. the morning light hit the ink on daisy's chest and arms, making the tattoos look like dark lace against her skin. she looked less like the hard ass loner from the bar and more like a woman who just wanted another hour of sleep.