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[…and after]
Perhaps going through the entire bottle of the 1945 Romanée-Conti wasn’t the best idea for the evening… financially either… though, Edward decided to keep that little detail to himself. The bottle was good, but it seems to have knocked them out. They never even made it to the bed.
Ed glanced over towards the TV, which was still on and playing some reruns of a show he’s never heard of. On the wall behind the TV hung an elegant but simple analog clock that read quarter-past four in the morning.
Sleeping on the hard marble floor with nothing but a thin blanket and a couple pillows was wreaking havoc on his back. Ed moved to sit up when he was halted by the sudden awareness of a weight pinning down his right arm in the form of a sleeping fox.
Jessi grumbled sleepily at the movement and snuggled closer into Ed’s side.
Suddenly, Ed didn’t feel so much pain in his back anymore…
Suddenly, he didn’t feel like going anywhere…
Suddenly… sleeping on the floor didn’t sound so bad…
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