Sunlight slipped through the poorly closed curtains, hitting Scaramouche right in the face. It caused him to grimace and turn away, his arms wrapped around your waist as he hid his face in your bare chest.

„Hopefully we didn‘t do anything stupid last night..“ He murmured, silently cursing himself for having drunk so much that he didn‘t even remember what they did. All he felt was his head aching and your skin under his palms.