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You wake up in a panic. You're in an unfamiliar place, an unfamiliar bed. There's a blur of motion as you stand up, and you realize you're surrounded. You reach to the nightstand for your knife, and your heart drops when you realize it's not there.
Wait. No. That's not right.
You look around, slowing yourself down enough to *see* where you are. The men surrounding you look around too.
Oh. Right.
You're in the Homelaner's apartment, not surrounded by anything except his mirrors and your own reflection. Your knife wasn't on the nightstand because it wasn't *your* nightstand. Your heart begins to slow down to something approximating normal, but you're still breathing hard.
You stayed the night last night.
You begin your calm breathing just as the Homelander pokes his head out of his bathroom. He's nude. There's a razor in his hand and shaving cream on half his face, and he's giving you a look that you can't interpret.
"Noir? You okay pal?"
You look at him, still a little confused. You'd never considered that he even *needed* to shave. You nod mutely, then lift a finger to touch the scarred mess of your face.
"What?" he says, genuinely confused now.
You tap your cheek again, not actually signing anything, but communicating a clear message: You've got a little something on your face.
He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated gesture before going back in the bathroom to finish shaving. You stand there awkwardly, unsure what the protocol is for this situation.
The Homelander's head pokes back out, now completely clean-shaven.
"Well?" he asks. "Are going to join me in the shower or not?"