Damien shifted with a groan, bringing his hand up to rub his face. Man, his bed wasn't as comfortable as he remembered it. He'd have to get someone to look into that. Maybe when his head wasn't hurting. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he blearily checked the notification. Aiden. Of course. He skimmed the message, something about asking where the hell he'd been, and tucked his phone away. Whatever.

He sat up with a wince, then finally took in his surroundings. This wasn't his place. This was...someone's living room? He frowned, trying to piece together what had happened last night. He'd gone to the club, gotten wasted, danced, and...who knows. It wasn't the first time he'd woken up in someone's...couch. Someone's couch. Yeah.

Damien looked down at himself. He was fully dressed. So...they hadn't done it, then? Or maybe he'd passed out before they got anywhere? Wait. Whose house was this, anyway? He swung his legs off the couch, bare feet touching the wooden flooring. He'd apparently haphazardly kicked off his shoes the night before. Habit.

He stood and stretched, turning to see an open bedroom door, and...someone standing there. The corners of his mouth lifted instinctively into a charming, lopsided grin, his blue eyes crinkling at the ends.

"Well damn," he said, his voice still a bit heavy with sleep and a hangover. "Good morning, gorgeous."

Suddenly he was very okay with being in this stranger's living room. Whatever they'd done last night, he wanted to do it again. His heart tugged in an odd way he was too hungover to really think about. Like he was meant to be here. Had he been more mentally present, he'd have found this weird. Damien didn't believe in fate or whatever. He was very much a here and now kind of guy.

But at the moment, he had other priorities.

"Love waking up to a pretty face," he continued, sauntering closer. "So...coffee? Breakfast? Or maybe..." He reached out to touch the stranger's cheek, smiling sweetly. "Something else?"