[He doesn't like mornings. Really, laughing at that is cruel. He wriggles grumpily in place, trying to hide more effectively. Sadly, it's a losing battle, and before long he's starting to become aware of his surroundings.
And something about the shoulder he's pressed against seems wrong - it's hard to tell through bleary eyes pressed into the darkest space he can find why, but he can tell that something is off.
It's not Neil.
So he pulls back, and stares as he slowly processes who's there -- Justin. And Neil.
no subject
And something about the shoulder he's pressed against seems wrong - it's hard to tell through bleary eyes pressed into the darkest space he can find why, but he can tell that something is off.
It's not Neil.
So he pulls back, and stares as he slowly processes who's there -- Justin. And Neil.
Oh. And a handcuff.
Oh.]
Um.
[Eloquent.]