Bacon.
I wake to the smell of bacon.
My eyes open, and I sit up to see the most insane breakfast laid out at the foot of the bed. Eggs, toast, every cereal imaginable, bacon, ham, coffee, and orange juice.
“What the f**k?” I grumble, rubbing my eyes. “Am I still dreaming?”
I get up and go over to the enormous trolley and examine the feast that’s been laid out for me. Between the coffee and the orange juice is a card. I pick it up and examine it.
For my queen. Enjoy the breakfast. Dinner tonight.
-Gunsyn
“Prick,” I grumble, crumpling the card and tossing it aside. I try to figure out what tone of voice he meant when he was writing that or how I’m supposed to interpret it.
His queen?
Of course he didn’t mean that, Irene. Tone of voice wouldn’t matter. It’s sarcastic no matter what.
