Mornings at Finnian's house were far from glamorous. Long nights at the office often meant that his eyelids gave out on him before he could so much as change into his pajamas or close his curtains, which meant mornings involved groaning at the piercing sunlight, stiff muscles, or—in the worst case—a pillow covered in pomade that he'd rinsed out of his hair. Finnian hated mornings, in fact, that he'd long resigned to the idea that they were horrid by nature and made no attempts to ease his sunrise suffering.
It was a little different this morning, and Finnian could sense it the moment it shifted. Half-asleep and half-awake, Finnian had shifted slightly, grasping at the object that had disturbed his comfort. He drifted further back into slumber, having mindlessly discovered the source of warmth, but had only a moment before that warmth ripped itself away from him once again.
"Wha—?" he asked groggily, squinting through the light to find none other than Annabelle Bones leaning over him, hands grasping his shoulder—completely topless. He blinked a few times, almost sure that he'd really once his eyes focused, but in this case it seemed that this dreamland had, somehow, become a reality. "Mrs. Bones?" he asked, unable to stop the yawn that escaped him. He reached up and rubbed his eyes and stretched his legs, figuring out rather quickly that he was just as topless as she was, and only when patting the stainless white bed sheet did it really hit him.
"What are you doing in my ro0—wait," he said, gaze flickering around the impeccably-decorated room. It was prettier than any room he'd seen, and there were plenty of bedrooms in the Connolly house. "this isn't my room." he concluded, turning to look back at her, clearly puzzled. "I suppose it's yours, eh?" No acknowledgement of the situation, no questions, nothing. Maybe she wouldn't acknowledge the question hanging in the air if he didn't. Or maybe she would, because she was definitely smarter than him.
It was a little different this morning, and Finnian could sense it the moment it shifted. Half-asleep and half-awake, Finnian had shifted slightly, grasping at the object that had disturbed his comfort. He drifted further back into slumber, having mindlessly discovered the source of warmth, but had only a moment before that warmth ripped itself away from him once again.
"Wha—?" he asked groggily, squinting through the light to find none other than Annabelle Bones leaning over him, hands grasping his shoulder—completely topless. He blinked a few times, almost sure that he'd really once his eyes focused, but in this case it seemed that this dreamland had, somehow, become a reality. "Mrs. Bones?" he asked, unable to stop the yawn that escaped him. He reached up and rubbed his eyes and stretched his legs, figuring out rather quickly that he was just as topless as she was, and only when patting the stainless white bed sheet did it really hit him.
"What are you doing in my ro0—wait," he said, gaze flickering around the impeccably-decorated room. It was prettier than any room he'd seen, and there were plenty of bedrooms in the Connolly house. "this isn't my room." he concluded, turning to look back at her, clearly puzzled. "I suppose it's yours, eh?" No acknowledgement of the situation, no questions, nothing. Maybe she wouldn't acknowledge the question hanging in the air if he didn't. Or maybe she would, because she was definitely smarter than him.
— set by MJ! —
☙ Post Log ❧