The crimson couch is uncomfortable below you, and the usual soft pillows are hard. Everything seems irritating and uncomfortable, and you shift again. Then, something shifts your position for you - a hand gently wrapping around your neck from behind.

"Good morning," Alastor whispers playfully. You feel the cold hand on your throat, gently stroking It. "Aren't you as pretty as a magnolia in may?" He teases, his touch still holding you in place.