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Summary
Alastor awoke with a start when he heard his door slam open, blinking blearily in the bright red light pouring through his window. He was still on his couch – mostly, at any rate, one leg flung over the arm of it and the other dangling on the floor, and the only reason the light hadn't already woken him was because he'd had his other arm thrown across his eyes - precisely to stop that from happening.
It had been a long and eventful night, and he was exhausted.
Finishing the rest of the bottle of rum Vox had brought over certainly hadn't hurt.
Series
- Part 24 of Signals Lost and Found