Jack woke from his dream. He had been chasing something, couldn't remember what. It seemed important. He had been weighted down, something slowing him, like a great big weight on his chest. Oh well, a dream's just a dream.
He still felt weighed down. And the air smelled strangely sweet, like honey. Not sugar sweet, but musty sweet. What a strange smell for a room full of men.
His hand moved over something soft and silky. Hair? Oh man, how much did he drink last night? If this was Brooke, he would never forgive himself.
The room was dark. One of the other men in the room snored soundly. He ran his fingers through the sleeping girl's hair. Her head lay on his chest, a gentle weight. Her breathing steady and quiet. The hair was long and straight to the touch. Please don't be Brooke, please
