Ann wakes up first, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep and the strange dream she'd been having (Tim had no hair; it was very weird). She can't really remember having fallen asleep, just groaning at an absolutely cringe-worthy line and snuggling herself up close to the heat of the body still pressed up so closely against her own. It's a little disorienting, waking up somewhere so unfamiliar, rather than tucked cozy in her own bed at home, thousands of miles away, but nice. She tips her head up to get a look at the person she's woken up beside, the same person she'd apparently fallen asleep beside (and not the weird hairless one from her dream), and has to press her lips together between her teeth to keep the giggle that threatens to spill over at bay.
His sleeping face is so cute. She doesn't want to wake him up, but the urge is hard to resist, even with the threat of morning breath— she has to kiss him, just once, really lightly, before slipping off of the sofa to stretch. Her pigtails hadn't held up through the night, so she tugs them loose, running her fingers through her hair as she tip-toes through a minefield of discarded clothing, stooping down to pick through them for her own clothes. She finds them, but… decides to put on his hoodie, instead, pulling it over the leggings they'd never actually gotten around to removing.
Grinning like an idiot, she finally finds her way to her purse and retrieves her phone, filled to bursting with notifications from her messenger app— the Phantom Thieves' Group Chat. Curious, she makes her way back over to the sofa and sits by Tim's head, scrolling through the messages with one hand while the other gently combs through his hair (which he has, because he is not bald). The topic of discussion over the last day or so has been what it usually is when they're between heists— who will their next target be? Someone even bigger than before, someone more corrupt? ]
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Ann wakes up first, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep and the strange dream she'd been having (Tim had no hair; it was very weird). She can't really remember having fallen asleep, just groaning at an absolutely cringe-worthy line and snuggling herself up close to the heat of the body still pressed up so closely against her own. It's a little disorienting, waking up somewhere so unfamiliar, rather than tucked cozy in her own bed at home, thousands of miles away, but nice. She tips her head up to get a look at the person she's woken up beside, the same person she'd apparently fallen asleep beside (and not the weird hairless one from her dream), and has to press her lips together between her teeth to keep the giggle that threatens to spill over at bay.
His sleeping face is so cute. She doesn't want to wake him up, but the urge is hard to resist, even with the threat of morning breath— she has to kiss him, just once, really lightly, before slipping off of the sofa to stretch. Her pigtails hadn't held up through the night, so she tugs them loose, running her fingers through her hair as she tip-toes through a minefield of discarded clothing, stooping down to pick through them for her own clothes. She finds them, but… decides to put on his hoodie, instead, pulling it over the leggings they'd never actually gotten around to removing.
Grinning like an idiot, she finally finds her way to her purse and retrieves her phone, filled to bursting with notifications from her messenger app— the Phantom Thieves' Group Chat. Curious, she makes her way back over to the sofa and sits by Tim's head, scrolling through the messages with one hand while the other gently combs through his hair (which he has, because he is not bald). The topic of discussion over the last day or so has been what it usually is when they're between heists— who will their next target be? Someone even bigger than before, someone more corrupt? ]
A new target, huh…