SHERRY'S PENINSULA | MORNING-ISH
Last night had been a blur, and he realized with groggy chagrin there was little clarity in the light of day.
The card game at the Black Dove had gotten particularly exciting, rowdy, and out of hand. Corwynn had been there for other reasons, but drawn in by the moment, he'd definitely allowed the evening to escape him all the way to the bottom of far too many glasses of Hoxian plum wine and far from unusual company.
Not the young man he'd once been, the galdor could only groan as he stirred lazily, the sharp pain of an angry hangover crawling through his temples like someone had simply put a bullet there instead. His tolerance for liquor was enviable, and yet he came to the quick conclusion that he'd definitely sailed right past the buoy and then some the night before. Stirring, he opened one eye only to regret it with a hiss, shutting it immediately and attempting to raise a hand to his face, only to realize in the shifting of his body that he was not alone.
Vaguely, he recalled who he'd needed to meet with. Vaguely, he recalled a roguish grin. Vaguely, he recalled a few other things from the night before, but most of those were a blur of flesh and a rumble of pleasured voices. Corwynn hummed, curling in the direction of the other warm body in his expensive, comfortable bed and tangling his limbs with the stranger he found within reach. Immediately aware that the man he moved to hold had no field, he didn't bother opening his eyes. Nor did he bother speaking right away lest he wake a creature just as horribly, irritably hungover as himself.
From somewhere within the depths of his house, Wavorly would be waking soon and the kitchen would be put to use. Breakfast and coffee were glorious thoughts, but until then, the blond gunman was far too simple a magical beast to do anything but savor the faint memories of that which he couldn't entirely recall from the night before.
After a few extra, delicious moments of quiet, lips against warm, tanned skin and senses full of the scents of a stranger, the Bad Brother mumbled groggily, testing the waters of potential response without a care at all toward caution, "Good morning."