[Warning: This chapter contains Mention of Drug Abuse]
"Are you crazy, Karl Hanski?" She pressed a hand against his face, blocking those clear, yearning turquoise eyes.
"What's the problem with that?" he frowned, pulling her hand off. "Didn't I sleep at yours last night? You can stay at mine."
There were plenty of bedrooms in his flat, and if she didn't mind, he'd gladly have her in his arms just the way they'd woken up that morning.
Her face only darkened further. He wanted her to stay here and become his human pillow, and god knows what else?
No way. She wiggled herself free and pushed him away at once.
"Last night was you dozing off at my place," she muttered, "I didn't invite you to stay. Plus, I prefer the comfort of my own bed. I'm going."
His frown deepened. A displeased sigh slipped out of him as he let her go completely, still pouting.
"You're so cold, birdie," he mumbled. "You have my song and now you're running away without taking responsibility."
