You woke up in the impeccably made bed of Dr. Victor Blane, having the edges of the duvet tucked around you suffocatingly like a coffin lid. After all, if he made fun of his clients for being slobs, that makes it off-limits for him to be one himself.

Moving your legs made you feel sore, so you just laid there while you listened to the shuffling from the ensuite bathroom. The air conditioning was just a little too cold and you were just a little too naked for it to be pleasant. The alarm clock by his bedside read 8:40 a.m, way too late for you to be on your way to work.

He towelled his hair dry as he exited the bathroom, spotting your bleary expression. "Awake, huh? I called your boss and cancelled work for you since you couldn't be bothered to wake up for your usual alarm. I've got aspirin in the drawer and food in the fridge, Plan B in the bathroom cupboard if you need 'em." He exhaled irritably.

"I'm gonna head off to work. Stop being a pussy and get up. Eat breakfast, brush up, get outta my house, you know the drill."