--What? [She's honestly baffled for a moment before she glances down at her shirt and realizes what he's talking about.
She tugs the hem of the t-shirt down a little, self-conscious now that he's pointed it out. She 'borrowed' this particular shirt from him before things went... well, the way they went, and never got it back to him. Not that she was honestly planning to; it's ridiculously soft and comfortable and it's hers now forever, no take-backs.
Besides, it probably wouldn't fit him right anymore after getting kind of stretched out by her, ah. Apples.] Think it's mine now.
[He's smiling to himself like he knows something she doesn't. Yeah, all his shirts are ridiculously soft and comfortable. They had to be or he'd be in agony wearing them feeling coarse weaves like velcro hooks scraping his chest and back.] OK. You can have it. No fight.
[She's a touch suspicious of that smile, but you know what? She'll take it. He's smiling, he's drinking his water, he's officially giving her his blessing to keep his shirt, things are going pretty okay right this second.] Thanks.
[She ends up sitting on the couch next to the very soft fleece so she can stay close by and keep an eye on him in case of further mini-crises.]
I need to- bathroom... [He caps the bottle and set it down somewhere in the blackness. It's a bit of a struggle to his feet, but he can probably navigate the dark better than she can even though it's his first time groping the walls here. He doesn't feel nauseous, just a bit dizzy, and with less control over his senses the roar of the flush is deafening, the soap is very drying and the water is very cold. But he otherwise looks fine when he stumbles back to the living room again, leaving a couple of wet handprints on her wall. He sits down on her couch with his empty wet hands in his lap, smiling in her general direction.]
I feel fabulous. We had a good night, Foggy. [Well, he certainly did. That she didn't spend most of her night with him escapes his attention for the moment.]
Oh, we did, huh. [A good night is not exactly how she would describe what's been happening here if left to her own devices. Definitely not boring, at least.
In the meantime, it's late, and it seems like he might be starting to settle down, or at least might not run off somewhere and do something stupid if unsupervised. So.] I should get some sleep. You should, too.
[It wouldn't hurt for her to check that her windows are locked. Just in case Matthew feels invincible and wants to backflip out onto the streets like a crime-fighting vigilante.] OK. I'll take the floor. [She's taking the couch and he's taking the floor, yes? Yes. It makes perfect sense.]
[An excellent idea that she will hopefully think of before she tries to sleep.] You can have the couch, Matt. One of the nice things about this fancy apartment of mine is that I have a bed all of my own to sleep in in addition to the nice couch.
[He's too drunk to have separation anxiety, so she can be rest assured that he'll be fine on his own. Whether he tries to climb out of her kitchen window in the middle of the night is another matter entirely.] Goodnight Foggy. I'll be- I don't want to sleep with you. I'll be here. [He might insist he isn't that tired and will be sitting there in the dark for a while running his hands through the unbelievably soft blanket, but he'll be out soon enough.]
[She mutters something that sounds like well, gee, good to know under her breath when he says he doesn't want to sleep with her, and then she stands up and heads for her bedroom, pausing briefly to squeeze his shoulder as she leaves him.] G'night, Matt.
[She does think to make sure her windows are closed and locked in addition to the door, thankfully, so that's a crisis maybe averted. She shuts her bedroom door and is up for a little while after, changing into pajama pants and sliding off the bra under her shirt (because fuck it, she's sleeping in the ridiculously comfortable shirt tonight) and brushing her teeth, etc. It's not long before she settles into her bed, although he'll probably be out before she is.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
She tugs the hem of the t-shirt down a little, self-conscious now that he's pointed it out. She 'borrowed' this particular shirt from him before things went... well, the way they went, and never got it back to him. Not that she was honestly planning to; it's ridiculously soft and comfortable and it's hers now forever, no take-backs.
Besides, it probably wouldn't fit him right anymore after getting kind of stretched out by her, ah. Apples.] Think it's mine now.
no subject
no subject
[She ends up sitting on the couch next to the very soft fleece so she can stay close by and keep an eye on him in case of further mini-crises.]
no subject
I feel fabulous. We had a good night, Foggy. [Well, he certainly did. That she didn't spend most of her night with him escapes his attention for the moment.]
no subject
In the meantime, it's late, and it seems like he might be starting to settle down, or at least might not run off somewhere and do something stupid if unsupervised. So.] I should get some sleep. You should, too.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
[She does think to make sure her windows are closed and locked in addition to the door, thankfully, so that's a crisis maybe averted. She shuts her bedroom door and is up for a little while after, changing into pajama pants and sliding off the bra under her shirt (because fuck it, she's sleeping in the ridiculously comfortable shirt tonight) and brushing her teeth, etc. It's not long before she settles into her bed, although he'll probably be out before she is.]