By the next morning, the manor had begun to stir again with life. The winter sun filtered through the tall windows, throwing long, soft beams of light across the floor. The chill outside still lingered, but inside, the fire crackled in defiance, painting the walls in a golden hue.
Alicia stood with her arms crossed, facing the couch where Adrien lay half-draped, half-asleep. His arm was thrown over his face to shield his eyes, shirt rumpled from sleep, hair a tousled mess that only made him look more infuriatingly handsome.
"Get up," she said, nudging his leg with her foot.
A low groan was all she received in response.
"I'm serious," she pressed, grabbing his wrist and trying to tug him up. He didn't budge.
"Elfie…" came his muffled voice, raspy with sleep. "It's too early for your crusades."
Alicia scowled. "It's nearly noon."
"To you, maybe."
