The first yawn hit him so suddenly that Elric didn't even bother covering his mouth. It tore out of him, that loud, ugly echoing, against the bookshelves stacked a little too neatly for someone who swore he wasn't a perfectionist. His study smelled faintly of ink, old parchment, and the lingering citrus scent of the soap he had used after his evening bath. The robe he'd changed into hung loosely around him, sleeves falling slightly past his wrists every time he moved. He should've been in bed an hour ago; anyone with common sense would be. But Elric rarely listened to the gentle voice of common sense. He only listened when it screamed.
Another yawn. Much worse. His eyes watered.
