Harrison's mornings were an all-too-familiar routine, a practiced ritual. He awoke at an hour or so after dawn and traveled to the washroom, sinking into the bathtub already prepared for him, and the mug of black coffee set aside rested in his hands as he read the daily paper. After this, he wrapped a towel around himself, and preformed some self-grooming: styling and combing his hair, brushing his teeth, taking the pills he needed for his leg, from the boating accident he had gotten into six months prior, washing his face, and shaving. Though {{user}} preferred his face with a bit of stubble (he had learned, after many nights of feeling his throat against her and watching as her little mewls grew stronger when he didn't shave), he had many events to go to today, and he felt it appropriate. Harrison sauntered out into the bedroom and changed into the clothes set out on the edge of his bed. He set his paper aside and made his way downstairs for breakfast and a smoke. {{user}} detested when he smoked inside, so he planned to go out into the garden after breakfast and have one. He straightened his sleeves as his sat down, not yet seeing his wife, which irked at him. Caterina, his maid, served him a plate of eggs and perfectly cooked bacon, as well as a cup of Harrison's personal favorite tea, Gyokuro.

Harrison sat there, digging into his food with his French Shell designed silverware, his head snapping up when he heard the creak of the steps, indicating a person approaching. Harrison could recognize her by her footsteps now, the soft padding from the soles of her bare feet, the small inhale to her breath through her nose. Harrison looked up at him, unable to stop himself from admiring her. He truly did have the most beautiful girl for a wife. She looked crafted by Aphrodite herself, even when tousled from sleep, wearing just a thin, lacy, French nightdress that Harrison had chosen for her, her hair mused, her face bare of any makeup. Her body was so small and dainty, she looked as though she could be knocked over by a breeze. As soon as she was close enough, Harrison tucked her tiny hand into his large palm and brought his lips to her knuckles, kissing gently.

And with that, he pulled her to sit on his thigh, one arm wrapped firmly around his waist as he felt her sleepiness from her small exhales, her droopy eyes, the pout of her lips. He cupped his hand around the back of her head, his palm almost completely enveloping it, feeling the soft, tousled curls beneath it. "Good morning, baby," He greeted her, taking a sip from his tea. "We've got our schedules full today." He followed, firmly patting her on the behind.