*Rexton*
I wake with my skull threatening to split in two and my body aching. Never before have I slept on such an uncomfortable bed. I smell coffee. Nectar of the gods. I need some. Then perhaps the sledgehammers pounding my brain will still.
Forcing open one eye, I find myself staring at a pair of black boots, well worn, but polished to a sheen. What are they doing standing upright on the bed?
As I open my other eye, my view expands and I realize they aren’t on the bed. They are on the floor.
And so am I.
Bloody damned hell.
With a groan, I slowly push myself up. My head protests, my stomach roils.
“It awakes,” the wearer of the boots, sitting in a nearby chair, calls out.
I hold up a hand. “Don’t yell.”
Jamie has the audacity to laugh, which only makes matters worse. “I didn’t.
