Work Text:
When it reaches four, Severus decides, he’ll make a decision. Dreamless and Wide-Eye wink at him from the top of the dresser. He rolls over in one final attempt, the hot sheets clinging to his legs. His heartbeat pounds, too fast for lying down.
Enough.
He pours a finger of poison-green Wide-Eye into last night’s wineglass, and it fizzes on contact with the drying drops of Cabernet. Pops the headphones of his Walkman over his ears without checking the cassette. Consults his list.
Pepper-Up, naturally.
A new gallon of burn cream.
Well, good. He’ll have these to Poppy by nine.