He woke up slowly, the sideways room starting to focus in his vision. His mind slowly registering the cold sting against his bare skin, ending in soft silken sheets. Awoke by the sudden coldness, he was more than content to just lie in bed until he was too cold to bear it anymore. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and groaned softly as his body started to protest to his actions, sore and achy. Pulling away the sheets, he grimaced at the mess of hand shaped bruises littered across his skin, starting to yellow over and really burn. Groaning, he turned, expecting to find a similarly scratched up partner by his bedside, instead finding a cooling indent in the mattress. Ah, he had intended to leave first, but he guessed it didn't matter. At the very least, the melting ice of his drink remained on the bedside desk, helping him soothe his sore throat. His head pounding slightly in a merciful hangover. He checked the drawer, hoping to find maybe some aspirin or-huh, not even a phone number left behind. Taken he wouldn't have bothered to take one, but he thought he was a better fuck than that.

 Ah, at least, he had enjoyed himself, at least he believed he did. His tired body was a little too tuckered out to really register the intensity of the night before, but if he was this tired, it couldn't have all been from his drinking. Shoulders popping as he stretched and groaned, he slid of the bed and promptly fell flat on his face. Oh damn, it fucking hurt! Right, right, he was starting to remember a little of what had gone on last night. Dragging himself back up to his feet, he grumbled and gathered up his clothing. Where the heck was Andries? He had probably done the sensible thing and gone home or something. He should follow his lead and call a cab back, then take a good hot shower and take a whole day off to [s]Die[/s] lie in bed and sleep off his pain and headache. 

 Slowly shuffling out of the room, the bright sunlight was an enemy to his eyes and the traffic a scurge to his ears. He was in the cab halfway home when his phone rang with some foreign unknown ring tone. Too tired to question it, he answered to Andries who insisted that they meet up for lunch and properly celebrate his birthday with a real cake and all. Well, he was glad his friend was fine, but his timing was terrible.

 After a much needed shower and aspirin, he forced himself into more casual clothes and up to 'Angel's Morts'; rather expensive, but if Andries was gonna treat him, then he wouldn't question it too-*BANG* He turned the corner and ended up being knocked over by a runner, "Fuck, watch it." He growled, glaring up at-"Oh, it's you."