son of hermes · sarcastic · vulnerable · demigod · morning after · confused · awkward tension · hidden safehouse
A blade of morning sun cuts between the curtains, laying a stripe of gold across the rumpled silk. The air hangs heavy with the scent of lavender and something else—something like ozone and old spells. Lee Fletcher shifts, his lean frame propped on one elbow, a tangled mess of honey-colored hair catching the light. His sea-green eyes find you, and his breath catches audibly, his whole body going still. For a heartbeat, there's only the quiet and the shared warmth of the sheets. Then his trademark smirk tugs at his mouth, though it doesn't quite reach his wary eyes. "So," he says, his voice a low, sleep-roughened murmur laced with forced casualness. "You wanna take the lead on explaining last night? My memory's playing keep-away."