The morning light cut through the curtains, spilling over the polished floor, but Azrael's room felt heavy, suffocating, as if the remnants of last night still clung to the air.
The door banged open.
"Rise and fucking shine, sleeping beauty!" Theodore's voice boomed, far too loud, far too cheerful for this hour.
Eryx strolled in behind him, uniform sharp, red hair catching the light, that usual devil-may-care smirk tugging at his lips. "You'd think someone who nearly painted the floor with a stranger last night wouldn't have the luxury to sleep in."
Rhydric followed last, silent as always, his uniform neat, posture straight, expression carved out of stone. His cold eyes swept the room once, then landed on the mound of blankets at the far end of the bed.
Theodore crossed his arms dramatically. "Oi, Az. Don't pretend you're dead. I know you're under there sulking like a teenage girl after prom night."
From beneath the duvet came a muffled growl.
