The next morning, the door to Izan's room slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.
Izan blinked through the haze of sleep, his mind still foggy and his body a bit hot under the duvet.
He looked up and saw Hori standing in the doorway, arms folded, face set in that particular brand of morning irritation that needed no translation.
He just stared at her, and she stared right back.
Neither spoke.
Then, with a small huff, she turned and walked away, leaving the door wide open and the cold air rolling in.
Izan rubbed a hand over his face, about to mutter something under his breath, when a soft hand caught him under the sheets.
"Don't curse this early," Olivia mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
He glanced down at her, her eyes still half-closed, hair spilling across the pillow and then leaned closer, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Don't hurt something you're addicted to."
Her palm met his shoulder with a light shove.
