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Summary
Carver’s already there, walking towards the counter—lookin’ sleepy, sweatpants hanging low like sin. It hits Herc how rare it is to see a pre-caffeinated Carv. He thinks he looks fuzzier around the edges, softer maybe; but not necessarily in a good way. Reminds Herc of the cat they had as kids, how she didn’t like to be disturbed before licking her paws, her face, and having her first treat. Trying to scratch her belly before that, meant getting your fucking arms clawed off.
Or maybe Herc’s deranged, officially lost his mind somewhere between two and six in the morning. Now he’s a house plant and Carv is his dead childhood cat. Maybe he needs his coffee, too.
Series
- Part 4 of Under The Wire