Beckett had been asleep. Asleep, asleep, the bone-tired, deep sort of sleep that only booze combined with a good romp could provide. A warm body next to him certainly helped too. Far more practiced in the art of drinking than his current snuggle buddy, Becks had yet to feel the after-effects of their night, but it would come in time.

That time just happened to be far earlier than he would have liked.

He felt the mattress shift and the blanket move, but it was her shout that truly woke him. Startled, rattled, Beckett shook his head, feeling a slight ache at his temples, but nothing some tea and breakfast wouldn't fix. Clearly he had other things to worry about at the moment. Fortunately she had only taken the comforter with her, and Becks was left with the sheet covering the good bits as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair haphazardly.

It was then he truly looked at who it was that had just jumped from his bed as if it were on fire and a he got a sickening sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Fuck. Beckett flirted with married women but had never, ever crossed this line. Crouch may as well kill him. Her question was a good one and Becks tried to shuffle through the hazy memories of last night. They had accidentally gone for the same drink, some light flirting and then a closet and a desperate escape. Things had escalated quickly, but why?

"That is an excellent question," One that required more brainpower than he currently possessed. He ran a hand across his temple. "I can assure you that the weapon is most unnecessary." He motioned vaguely to the picture frame she held that contained a painting one of his nieces had done for him.