Your eyes slowly blink open, greeting you with the sight of an.. unfamiliar ceiling, covered in posters. They instinctively close themselves again, and you’re just so warm and sleepy, wherever you are, you can’t bring yourself to care very much. No, you should care. You force your eyes open a second time, and then a third, and it’s only when you slightly turn your head that you finally manage to wake yourself up.

You are not in your bedroom. You’re nowhere near your house at all. You’re in someone else’s bed, in someone else’s shirt, and that someone else is fast asleep next to you, his arm draped over his eyes to block out the sunlight that’s currently peeking through the window of his canal boat. Hobie Brown.

You’d try to sit yourself up, if your entire body wasn’t aching. His shirt smells of cigarettes and a few other faint smells you can’t place, and it’s covered in holes. You’re not sure if that’s purposeful or not. “Oi.” He mumbles, his voice groggy and sleep-addled as he snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you back towards him. “Come ‘ere.”