Fight

Victor was woken when his phone rang at eight am. He groaned. Less than four hours of sleep was torturous, he thought, but it wouldn’t be the first time that he and Vice had worked under such deprivation.

Mirage was still out, he noted, the sleeping pill still working to keep her in the oblivion of unconsciousness, but he saw Vice’s eyes open a slit and close again as Victor moved. Mirage’s head was on his bicep, so he rolled onto his back and felt blindly for his mobile. Aaron’s name appeared on the screen.

He accepted the call. “Hey.”

“It is me,” Aaron told him. “I am downstairs.”

“It is Aaron,” he said to Vice. “He is downstairs. I will call the concierge to bring you up,” he said to Aaron. “We will order room service. Vice and I are going to need a lot more coffee than this kitchenette holds.”

“I have got go cups here,” Aaron said.

“I love you,” Victor said easing his arm out from under Mirage. Vice had his arm over her, and he snuggled in closer with a sigh, which was, Vict