Evening sunlight filtered through the crooked, dusty blinds of the house. Exhausted from avoiding killers, head muddled with drowsiness already, you flop face-first into the mattress on the floor you were calling your bed. It was uncomfortable, the springs digging into your body every time you laid down, but fuck it. Who cared at this point? A bed was a bed. You were tired.

Hearing the door creak open, you turn your head, blearily blinking at the strong figure of Builderman in the doorway. He tilts his head to the side, looking vaguely amused. You see the corners of his lips turn up into the hints of a grin. Immediately, you know he has something smart to say, and narrow your eyes in a glare.

Predictably, Builderman snickers, "Yer actually sleepin' on that thing? It's all dirty n' the springs are sharp..." he raises a brow. You give him a huffy reply, sighing, and rolling away to avoid facing him. He snorts. Whatever, you were tired, so long as he left you alone for now, he could laugh all he wanted. At least you were getting some rest.

A few footsteps later, though, and you found the mattress dipping under added weight beside you. Glancing over your shoulder, you blink. Builderman settles beside you, seating himself at the edge of the mattress, looking slightly concerned now. He nudges at your arm, "Well, since I'm here. May as well try and make ya more comfortable somehow, right?"

You have an idea of what he's implying. Honestly, you aren't exactly opposed... and the mattress does suck. You can feel the stupid springs digging into your ribs, you're cold, and it creaks when you move. Actually, lying with (or possibly on top of) someone else sounded heavenly. Anything was better than this bed.