#my register wouldn’t open today ood

[phineasandferbtheories]

At Ferb’s first job, he got annoyed with the cash register being weird and changed it up

[giuliafc]

Stuck in a Cabin (with you) - chapter 2

Read at: Ao3 || FFN || Wattpad

Summoned to save his Lady's life, Adrien gets stuck with her in a cabin during a blizzard. Identities get revealed, feelings come out...but who's been plotting to kill Marinette? Will the culprit be punished? Read to find the answer :) (Adrienette)

Read previous chapter here on Tumblr

Marinette shivered. She stood in front of the small frozen lake and looked around, trying to find any warning sign that there could be any danger. The sky was covering the park with its white canopy and the trees all around the lake looked like they came from a polar tundra, so covered in snow that every part of their branches displayed a thick white contour.

The scenery felt nearly apocalyptic and Marinette looked around reverentially — it was all so beautiful. Not having found any warnings for danger, she sat down on a bench near the lake and started taking her walking boots off, to replace them immediately with her ice skates. She put her walking boots back into the bag she had used to store her skating boots and placed everything back into the small backpack she had brought with her. She gave a couple of shakes to her feet, ensuring that her boots had been put on safely.

“I don’t know, Marinette. This sounds fishy. Why aren’t your friends here yet? It took you much longer than we expected to arrive,” whispered Tikki in her ear.

“Alya and the girls must have had a delay somewhere. She told me to start enjoying myself, and there doesn’t seem to be any danger around. What can go wrong?” mused Marinette.

Tikki looked at the sky warily. “It feels wrong. The clouds are too dense in the sky, it’s going to start to blizzard soon. I don’t want you caught in it. There must be a reason why nobody’s here at all!”

“Nothing to worry about, Tikki,” said Marinette with a smile. She tapped on the screen of her phone and opened the weather forecast. “There’s no mention of any blizzard starting any time soon.”

Tikki kept staring at her with a worried gleam in her eyes and Marinette sighed and gave her a quick rub on the head. She checked again that her skates were put on properly and then she moved warily on the cold ground to reach the surface of the lake. After a couple of minutes of watching Marinette skate, Tikki started to calm down a little, because Marinette was an excellent skater and there really seemed to be no danger.

Marinette saw the gaze of her small friend relaxing and smiled softly at her. “See? There’s nothing to worry about. It’s a bit unlike you to be this worried, Tikki. Usually you’re so confident.”

Tikki sighed and moved her gaze from hers. “It’s complicated, Marinette. A long, complicated story.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Tikki. Just enjoy the warmth of the purse, okay? I’m sure Alya will get here soon with the gir—” But Marinette’s reasoning was interrupted by a loud crack. She opened her eyes wide as the ice under her boots started breaking and one of the skates she was wearing got caught in the rupture. She panicked. She tried to pull her foot out. The ice broke even more, a skin curling loud bang resounding all around the silent lake. Marinette felt the ground underneath her feet dissolving, and the freezing temperature of the water hit her senses, like thousands of blades butchering her skin. She gasped for air so desperately that she felt herself hyperventilating. The whole place around her was a thin puzzle of shattered ice pieces. She waved her hands around, trying to find something to hold, but she couldn’t grab anything, the ice had broken too finely to leave her something to grasp.

She started drowning.

“MARINETTE!” shouted Tikki zipping out of her purse. “MARINETTE, PLEASE HOLD ON, TRY TO GET YOURSELF OUT! PLEASE, MARINETTE!”

“I can’t feel my legs!” said Marinette, emerging from the water to gasp for air. “I can’t move, Tikki, I think I have cramps! HELP ME!”

The little Goddess of Creation zipped around her chosen in a manic frenzy. She looked around but couldn’t see anybody by the lake that she could catch the attention of. And worse than anything, snow was starting to fall from the sky, making it very hard to distinguish anything.

Crap. It looked exactly like that time.

No. Tikki couldn’t allow it to happen. Not to her sweet Marinette.

Suddenly, Marinette managed to grab some larger piece of ice and started coughing loudly.

“Are you okay, Marinette? Almighty Creator, your lips are blue!”

“I-I’m n-not-t f-eeling v-very g-g-ood. I-I c-can’t m-move…”

Tikki’s eyes widened. “Transform! Please transform Marinette, the suit will help!”

“TIKKI!” called Marinette. “Sp— ” But as she said that, the block of ice she was holding on broke and she fell in the water again.

Tikki’s heart froze. No, it couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t possibly be happening. Not again. Not all over again. The pain, the heartache… she was a kwami, true, she wasn’t human, but she wouldn't stay there and do nothing while another of her Ladybugs froze to death. Not again. Screw the rule of not interfering with human life. Screw identity concerns! Marinette shouldn’t end her days drowning frozen and lonely, like it happened to Piào Chòng!

Tikki saw her chosen’s head emerging from the water and shouted, hoping that she would hear her, “I’ll look for help. Hold on, Marinette, please!” The red kwami’s gaze darted around the park, trying to see anything that could give her an indication that people were around. The place looked so empty and sounded so silent that the manic splashes of Marinette’s attempts at getting out of the water seemed to almost echo in the emptiness.

The snow was also starting to pick up. She knew that the clouds in the sky looked too dense to not cause a blizzard. She knew it, and that bad gut feeling she had had… she should've listened to it! She had again allowed one of her chosens to put her life in danger because of the snow. If Tikki didn’t find someone to help, she would never forgive herself. She looked around trying to find a landmark to remember where she was, and saw the bench where Marinette had sat to put on her skates, just next to a rubbish bin that had taken nearly the shape of a white mouse because of the snow that was covering it. She tried to imprint that picture in her memory. Marinette was struggling always more to keep her head out of the water. She had to be quick.

Feeling horribly guilty, she zoomed out and went off looking for help. ‘Please, Marinette, don’t give up! Hold on!’

oOoOoOoOoOo

Adrien sighed in the premade mobile cabin that had been set up as a changing room for his photoshoot. It was typical of his father to take advantage of the bad weather and decide to perform the photoshoot for Gabriel’s newest ski line in Paris, at the park near Lac Daumesnil, rather than having to go to the mountains and waste additional money for accommodation and travelling.

He had hoped to finish the shoot early, so he could have gone to Nino’s house to complete the shared history project that they had to do for school, but Jean Jacques (a new photographer) was too much of a perfectionist. Adrien understood that the man had only recently started working with the brand and was trying too hard to make an impression, but asking him to retake every picture 4 times using different lighting and then making him do them again once more because ‘the exposure wasn’t perfect’ sounded a bit excessive.

The weather had decided to get worse and he had been stuck inside the cabin, as his bodyguard had gotten stuck in the traffic of the city panicked by the strong new blizzard. Who knew when he would finally arrive! Adrien couldn’t wait to go home. The cabin was cold and one can only hear so many of Plagg’s complaints.

“This horrible weather is freezing my Camembert!” whined Plagg for the millionth time. “Can we go home already?”

Adrien sighed again. “I wish I could, buddy. But it would look strange if I got home without waiting for the Gorilla to pick me up.”

Adrien heard a notification coming from his phone and looked at it. It was breaking news about the weather. He opened up the News app and the concerned face of Nadja Chamack stared back at him.

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news. Good afternoon, I’m Nadja Chamack, and I’m talking to you from the Town Hall, where Mayor Bourgeois has just announced a Red Alert warning for the bad weather conditions.”

The screen showed a panorama of Paris wrapped under a thick canopy of snow, more fresh snow coming down from the heavy white sky. “If you’re out, please go home and do it slowly. The hospitals around town have reported a large number of calls and walk-ins due to driving accidents, or trips and falls, due to the bad weather conditions. Some hospitals report queues of over two hours to be registered and even longer to be seen. The code for today is like the one for an akuma alert: if it’s not necessary to go out, don’t. Stay in. Stay safe.”

The TV now showed M. Bourgeois standing in front of the Town Hall, wearing his sash and looking quite serious with his papers in hand. “Thank you, Madame Chamack. The situation is degenerating very quickly. There have been at least ten major accidents reported in the centre of the city alone. I repeat, this is NOT an akuma attack. Ladybug and Chat Noir cannot help the town. This is a real emergency, the coldest winter Paris has had since 1879. That’s why I’m declaring a Code Red alert. All public transport won't run until further notice. Schools will remain closed for the time being. If you’re not an essential worker, or you can work from home, don’t get out of the house to get to work. Stay in. Stay safe.”

Nadja moved the microphone back to her face. “Thank you, Mayor,” she said smiling warmly at M. Bourgeois. “As our Mayor has kindly stated, ladies and gentlemen, this isn’t an akuma attack. The Miraculous Cure won’t fix everything as it usually does. To make sure that this was the case, we went looking for the people who have been akumatised in the past with weather related powers.”

The picture in the video changed from the outside of Town Hall to the sitting room of a private home. There stood Aurore Beauréal, the girl who had been akumatised twice into Stormy Weather. “Hi, Nadja,” she said with a smile, her hand playing with a loose lock of blonde hair.

“Hi, Aurore. Nice to see you happy and smiling,” said Nadja’s voice in the background.

“Yes, thank you for checking on me, Nadja. I can assure everyone that it’s definitely not me causing this bad weather, to check if by any chance it was them.”

Nadja’s face reappeared on the screen. “That’s good news, thank you, Aurore.”

Then, the video moved to the inside of the Ice Rink in town. Philippe Candeloro, the middle aged figure skating trainer who ran the Rink, smiled at the camera and waved. “Good afternoon, Nadja.”

“Monsieur Candeloro, good afternoon. It’s nice to see you smiling and happy,” repeated Nadja, echoing the previous conversation.

“Thank you for caring. It’s definitely not me creating this bad weather.”

Nadja’s face reappeared on the screen. “That’s even more good news. Thank you, Monsieur Candeloro.” Nadja took a big breath. “From the Town Hall, that’s all for now. But keep an eye on your phone or on the TV, because we will keep you informed about any breaking news. As for now, stay in, stay safe.”

Adrien sighed and turned off the screen of his phone. His battery was starting to run low and he didn’t want to drain his phone completely, in case Gorilla or Nathalie would try to contact him. Code Red meant that everything would have been shut for a few days, which also meant that he was going to be trapped in his golden cage with no possibility to escape. Except through the roofs in black spandex, of course.

“The weather is horrible. It could take your bodyguard HOURS to arrive here. And what are we going to do in the meantime, freeze to death? My poor Gooeyness is all cold and hardened up!” Dramatically, he raised a paw at the height of his forehead and closed his eyes, faking distress.

“Oh stop it, Plagg, it’s not that bad. And someone may hear you!” shushed Adrien, but Plagg stuck his tongue out at him.

“Who's going to hear me? The photographer and the team have all gone, it’s only me and y—” but as he spoke, he saw a red dot zooming inside the cabin and his complaints came to a sudden halt.

“Oh thank you, Almighty Creator! It’s so good to see you, Adrien!” Both Adrien and Plagg stared in disbelief at a greatly distressed Tikki, taking heavy breaths to cool herself down.

“Tikki?” said Adrien, a loud gasp coming out of his throat. At the same time, Plagg shouted, “Sugarcube!” and zoomed towards her to hug her, but she put both paws in front of her tiny body to stop him.

“There’s no time to explain. A… girl. Skating at the lake. Danger. You need to help!” she said between heavy pants, her voice cracking as a big frown furrowed her eyebrows. “You need to follow me, NOW. It could already be late!”

Adrien blinked. “A… girl?”

His heart started racing in his chest as he stood without even thinking and put his coat on, opening the door of the cabin and looking around warily. Plagg was right, nobody was around, the place was completely deserted. He stepped out of the cabin and started running in the direction he knew the lake was, paying attention to where he was putting his feet to ensure he wouldn’t slip. Tikki and Plagg followed him.

His mind was filled with different thoughts as he started looking around. “What did this girl think she was doing, skating at the lake? There were loads of panels warning about thin ice yesterday. What was going through her mind?”

Tikki gasped. “Adrien, there were no signs earlier on. Not even one. Nothing that we could see at least.”

We. She’d said we. The thought struck his head and kicked away any other thought or doubt he would have had. “We? Where’s Ladybug? Why isn’t she helping? Were you here together?”

The terror in Tikki’s eyes grew so huge that Adrien felt he could actually touch it and taste it. She looked at Plagg, then back at him, then her gaze lowered to the ground.

“L-Ladyb-bug is unavailable,” she said.

Adrien stopped in his tracks, panting heavily, and looked at Tikki through the white shower of snow that was dimming his view. The snow falling from the sky was so thick that he found himself with snowflakes in his mouth. “You would never leave Ladybug’s side, Tikiki, I know you quite well. If you’re here, Ladybug is here too. WHERE THE HELL IS LADYBUG?”

Tikki’s eyes widened even more when he started to shout. The lower lip of the little kwami started quivering and Adrien was certain that the red colour of her little face grew paler.

“S-she w-was... ice skating on the lake and the ice cracked. You must hurry, please Adrien!” The tiny Goddess of Creation zipped to his neck and grabbed his collar with her tiny paws.

“It’s HER? Ladybug is in danger?” panicked Adrien. The first thing that came to his mind was that if Tikki was there, it meant that Ladybug wasn’t transformed.

Her identity!

Screw her identity. She’s in danger.

Oh God, Ladybug would never forgive him, but he had to protect her, he couldn’t leave her in danger! He’d never seen Tikki that panicky before—that didn’t sound good at all. He resumed his run through the park, trying to reach the shore of the lake as quickly as he could.

Tikki’s eyes filled with tears as she zipped behind him, and started sobbing loudly. “It’s happening all over again. I can’t lose another one. Not my *BURP*” she said, blowing bubbles, as the magic of the Miraculous prevented her from saying her holder’s name.

“Sugarcube! It won’t happen again, not if we can help it, don’t worry!” said Plagg, trying to rub her back to help her calm down, but Tikki was inconsolable.

“Why didn’t she transform?” Adrien stopped at a crossroad, not knowing where to go. The snow that was fluttering from the sky was making it very hard to make out the indications on the road. What yesterday and even earlier today would have been a two minute walk had become much longer now, because of the low visibility, and the slippery ground. Or at least it felt, much, much longer. Incredibly longer.

“She tried, but the ice she was holding onto cracked again and she was sucked down into the water. She couldn’t say the words!”

Adrien felt his soul leaving his body as realisation hit. “Is she drowning?” he asked. His heart was racing at thousands miles an hour. Tikki nodded and his heart stopped.

With the blizzard and the very low temperature, even if she had been out of the water she would be in danger. In the water, the danger had potentially grown by thousandfold. She wasn’t just in danger, she could die!

“Plagg, CLAWS OUT!” he shouted and dashed off, not even looking to make sure that nobody was around before transforming. He didn’t care. Screw Hawkmoth. His Lady was dying and nothing else mattered.

---------------------------------------------

Author’s Note:

Hi again! So… due to the huge demand, here is chapter 2. Yes, Lila’s plan is unfolding quite well. Will Marinette survive?

In the next instalment of “Stuck in a cabin (with you)”, “Prince Chat-ming”:

— “S-SHE’S N-NOT B-B-BREAT-T-HING!”

— “What are you waiting for, Chat Noir? Please help her!” begged Tikki. “I can’t do it.”

— “I-I’M A BOY!”

Ehrm… I know. Sorry. The teaser ain’t helping. Let me know what you thought about the chapter. If I need to choose to prioritise a story to write (and publish), I will always go for the one with the most feedback, because I feel that I’m letting more people down if I don’t continue soon. I can’t promise I will publish every week, but let me know what you think and I’ll publish as soon as I can. Please subscribe if you’re interested in knowing what is going to happen, so you will know when the next update is!

And please check out my other WIPs, “When Magic Fails”, “Caught in the Loop”, “Errata Corrige” and “La Caverne du Papillon d’Or”!

Last but not least, as usual, if you read this and you’re not part of our wonderful Discord server already, but you enjoy reading, writing and talking about Miraculous, please join our Discord server, Miraculous Fanworks (for people on FFN, discord dot gg slash mlfanworks). See you there soon. Not sure when I will update this story but it won't be too long! Promise!

[kaytewrites]

the quick release || masquerada: songs and shadows || chapter 1

(a/n: i'd like to give a big ol shoutout to the masquerada discord for being absolute lads and a constant source of inspiration. y'all are awesome, bless y'all. the chapter number is a very rough prediction - i have about 8,000 words written, but i want to break it into manageable chunks and edit it. this is unbeta'd, by the way, so any and all mistakes are my own. feel free to leave comments/criticism!

work title from Red Sparrow by Mree.

please enjoy ♥)

also on AO3!

“So this is what Salting is like,” Tristan says, as if his vision isn’t tripled and he can feel his legs. The bridge seems impossibly long, so much longer than what he thought, and he dimly feels himself turn, puppeted by the need to keep moving, because if he stops he has a feeling that he’s never going to move again.

He feels something sigh in the back of his mind, and while he pushes himself ever further, feels the black creep in at the edge of his vision and his arm twitch at just the wrong moment, he spares a thought for what feels like something   else in his mind. He doesn’t get long, though, because there’s a sword coming down on his arm, and then there is no arm.

Pain like ice lances through his body, and he falls to the ground in a scream, convulsing. It’s the most terrified he’s ever been, and he wishes, for a brief moment, that someone will kill him quickly.

He has never been so lucky.

The despots who are left kick him to the edge of the broken bridge and then further, and he plummets to the dark water below. Just before he breaks the surface, he dreams he can hear someone screaming “No!”, and then all that’s left is ice.

He does not know how long passes. For a long time, all he knows is cold and sand and multiplicity - memories he does not know, cannot name, run behind his eyelids. He screams sometimes, when he wakes, but his throat grows raw and bloody and he cannot scream anymore.

Eventually, he tires and sleeps once more.

The world becomes warmth and light, at some point, but there are too many jagged edges in his mind, too many people speaking too many things he does and does not understand, so he does his best to try and ignore it all.

Tristan opens his eyes to a wooden roof. He blinks for a moment, two. Thinks: I should be dead; and then: Thank the Ages I’m not.

“Easy now,” comes a voice from his left, and he instinctively turns to face it, regretting the decision as it jostles the stump of his arm-

Oh. That. He winces sharply, and the voice chuckles.

Tristan recognizes the blue of the Sorelle before anything else - Kalden, his name was. He fights to get his tongue to cooperate, but when he tries to speak, there’s a jumble of vowels and not much else.

“Do you remember Salting?” Tristan nods, not trusting his voice. He remembers the bridge, and the burning cold, and -

He’s struck by violent tremors, then, and Kalden rests a hand on his arm to steady him. “Easy now, Valencio.”

It takes him a long moment to order his thoughts, longer still to try and steady his tongue enough to speak them. “H-h-how l-l-”

“How long have you been asleep?” Kalden finishes, and Tristan nods. When Kalden sighs instead of responding, Tristan’s heart clenched in his chest. Surely it can't have been that long…?

“A month, give or take. We found you a few weeks after the battle, under the river, surrounded in ice. Seems you saved yourself from death, even Salted.” Kalden sighs, and Tristan gets the distinct feeling that it's not the end of the story.

“You've woken several times, but this is the first you've been lucid enough to try and speak.” Kalden pats his complete arm. “We've had to call Vasco in every other time. He seemed to be the only one who could calm you down.”

The name throws him for a moment, until he remembers the dark-haired flute of a man who'd Salted himself for Cicero after -

Well.

After that .

Still, it makes him wonder - why would this Vasco, this man who'd saved Cicero when all Tristan had done was follow orders , spend his time helping him?

Kalden lets him think in silence. The man's presence serves to soothe, even with as little Tristan knows of him. At least he knows he's trustworthy.

“C-c-c-”

“Cicero?” Kalden supplies again, and Tristan nods once more. He has a feeling this will quickly get infuriating. There's already a headache buzzing behind his eyes, a swarm of thought like hornets in his brain.

“He shouldn't be busy today. Surprised he hasn't checked in on you more, to be honest.”

Tristan isn't surprised at all, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting. At least Cicero is alive. He nods to Kalden, who stands and ambles to the door, poking his head out for a moment.

Tristan takes a moment to take stock of himself: his toes are responsive, confirmed by the wiggle at the end of the sheets. He clenches his left fist once, twice. He can feel his right fist move with it, even when he looks down and sees nothing past the elbow. Ice swims behind his eyes, and he does his best to breathe through it.

He must be lost in his reverie longer than he thinks, because he’s being jolted out of it what feels like seconds later by a soft touch and a gentle, “Tristan?”

“Good morning, hero, ” Tristan says, and at the confusion on Cicero’s face, he realizes he must not have spoken Ombrian.

“I think you said hello, right?” Tristan nods. “Hello to you, too, then. Still having trouble with the languages?” Another nod. “Well. You’re twice as smart as Vasco, so you shouldn’t have a problem-”

“I heard that!” comes a petulant yell from the doorway, and Vasco is there, seemingly from thin air. There’s a mischievous smile on his face, almost matched by the grin on Cicero’s. Airbrands, he thinks, exasperated.

“I think he’s just jealous that he doesn’t suddenly know an ancient language. ” Vasco’s voice flows smooth with the Dimenticate, and Tristan smiles despite himself. He finds his eyes drawn to him, all the languid grace of someone of the purple guild, and though Tristan has his own squabbles with that guild, it’s easy to put them aside. Especially since they stayed.

“Perhaps, ” Tristan responds, and the smile on Vasco’s face is blinding.

“- As I was saying,” Cicero continues, “you shouldn’t have trouble speaking again. You’re one of the strongest people I know, Tristan.” There’s something lurking under the surface of those words, a conversation that’s waiting to be had, and Tristan doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready for it.

Still.

Cicero’s hand gives his remaining arm a firm grip at the elbow, and he smiles down at Tristan. He’s already exhausted, just by this minimal interaction, but he doesn’t want to rest. He wants to move around, get back up, back on his feet, be a part of what’s happening, but he knows if he tries there’s no doubt they’ll all just shove him back in a bed again.

“Good to see you back, old friend.”

“G-g-g-ood t-to s-s-s-”

He stops, impatiently patient, and Cicero waits like he’s got all the time in the world for Tristan to find his words. “Seeyoutoo,” he breathes out in a rush, and feels both humiliated and proud that he can speak. Cicero’s answering grin as he brushes past Vasco to leave only intensifies it -

Vasco. The man had slipped his mind for a moment, but now that he’s the only other living body in the room, it’s hard not to notice him. He walks over from the door, shutting it behind him, his walk making Tristan think of the cats that stalked the alleys of the Citte, hunting whatever poor rodent was unlucky enough to get in their way. He drops into the chair next to the bed in a single fluid motion, lounging like he’s been there for hours.

“So. Tristan Delzole.” There’s venom in his name, and he is remorseful enough to wince. “Back from the dead, in a fashion almost as miraculous as our d-dear Cicero’s.”

He feels like a viper staring down a mongoose. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, only feeling shock as he registers Vasco’s words. He lets the shock show on his face, hoping Vasco will answer his unspoken question.

“Not going to speak for you, Valencio. You’ll have to sp-speak for yourself.”

Damn. There goes that idea, then. “W-w-wha-t-t hap-p-p-pened t-t-t-t-”

Vasco waits for him to finish with an enigmatic smile, and it makes Tristan want to swat at the flower vase that’s sitting on the bedside table. Lucky that’s his missing arm’s side, then.

“T-t-t-o Cic-c-c-c-ero?” he finishes, and the little clap Vasco gives makes him scowl.

“Very good! And, as a reward, here’s your answer: he died.”

Tristan stops. Looks at Vasco. Waits for the sign that it’s all some terrible joke he’s being played by.

Vasco laughs sarcastically. “I wouldn’t joke about that, Delzole. I think the universe has given me the best possible punchline it could, T-t-t-t-t-ristan.” He plays up the stutter on his name, and now Tristan sees why Vasco is so hostile: Tristan is the reason he Salted in the first place. And now, Tristan is here, in the same place he was weeks ago, having Salted for the very same man. It’s a type of cruel irony, and one that Vasco is enjoying immensely, by the looks of it.

“G-g-g-g-lad yo-o-ou’re hav-v-v-v-ing-g-g f-fun.” His voice is more tired than he expects. He is more tired than he expects. He’s far, far too tired to parse exactly what all this means: that Cicero died but clearly didn’t stay dead, by the looks of it. That he, for all intents and purposes, should have followed the man into the dark.

“Only a little,” Vasco admits, and Tristan doesn’t believe it for a second. Instead, he turns on his side, the side that still possesses an arm, and pulls the sheets up around himself as if to sleep.

“Don’t be in-salt-ed, Valencio.” He groans at the pun, and then remembers he’s supposed to be sleeping. “I’ll have you speaking p-properly in no time. I did have a fine tutor, myself.” His tone gets distant, misty, but Tristan doesn’t bother turning to see if his expression matches. He hears Vasco stand, pushing the chair back from the bed, and walk to the door. There’s a pause then, as if he waits at the door, but Tristan shuffles more resolutely under the covers. He hears it click, swing, and click again, and Tristan is alone once more.

Almost as soon as he decides that sleeping might actually be a good option, he’s already dozing.