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Bar crawling never ended like this. It never ended somewhere so clean.[break][break]

When Bailey Cooper awoke, she was not greeted to the stale yet familiar smell of a motel room. She breathed and smelt fabric softener, and felt linen sheets tangle around her limbs as she contorted her body from its selfish spread—sleeping alone had its benefits, and she had extended her limbs to every far corner to seek the most comfort.[break][break]

It was a level of comfort that she wanted to selfishly covet, but her morning needs refused to let her rest.[break][break]

When she moved, Bailey felt the familiar pang of a hangover manifest. It was not as sharp or as vicious as it could have been, and the newly-dubbed Sergeant was thankful that she had the sense to pop a few aspirin in her blacked out state. Drunk Cooper had learned to be kind to her sober counterpart, and as she sat up in the empty bed, she looked at a television that had been left to run throughout the night.[break][break]

“What the..?” Where was she?[break][break]

When her eyes swept down, they were met with the sight of her wrinkled uniform. She had fallen asleep without changing, and her nicely ironed dress shirt had been marred by creases that had undone her efforts to look nice and tidy. Her dress jacket and slacks were sprawled out on the floor without a care, if only because that would have been uncomfortable.[break][break]

It was the sight of blue that caused her memories to resurface. The ceremony. The bar. The drive. This was Fernando's place.[break][break]

“Fuck,” and the anxiety in her stomach was only eased by the fact that she had slept alone, and not with company. Some boundaries had not been crossed, and she thanked an unseen deity for that stroke of luck.[break][break]

In the early morning, she trekked barefoot through his house, trying to not make a sound.[break][break]

Bailey passed through the living room, avoiding the couch and the sleeping figure of the councilman with as much care as she could muster—what was she supposed to do? Slip out of the house before he woke up? The thought of the conversation that would emerge from their night was too awkward to fathom.[break][break]

But she was fucking starving.[break][break]

The kitchen was her destination, and Bailey went to search through the fridge like a famished Greedent.[break][break]

She wretched open the door... and stared into its depressing, almost empty state.[break][break]

“What the fuck?” Why was there barely anything in his fridge? Did he even live here? “Is he a plant? Does he fucking live off sunlight?” She rooted through the contents, shoving aside bottles of water as she tried to seek something of actual substance—nothing. Nothing that she would want to eat.[break][break]

In her desperation, Bailey went to the sleek and modern cabinets. Too short to properly raid through their contents, she had to get up onto the counter-top, sitting on her knees as she tried to find something.[break][break]

Her search made her overlook the sound of a pokeball releasing a pokemon, and the sight of a Kecleon wandering into the kitchen to search through the fridge that she had left open.[break][break]

“Where's the fucking—oh thank god, he does drink coffee,” and she pulled out the coffee grounds from a high shelf.

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Her bare knees ached. It came from the cold, unrelenting hardness of the stone counter.[break][break]

Bailey's head swiveled at Fernando's arrival, and she displayed no shame as she gestured to his empty cabinets. Some might have felt embarrassed at being caught digging through someone's kitchen, but her bafflement defied such rationale. “More than you have.” Like, seriously. How was this possible?[break][break]

“Do you just eat out all the time?” There was a loud tap as she set the coffee tin onto the counter. A rough push of the hand sent it sliding across the smooth surface, straight to Fernando. It was his poorly stocked kitchen. He knew where the coffee machine was.[break][break]

She'd slide off from the counter, pulling down at the edge of her button-up shirt to keep it at length with her upper thighs; tan-lines visible from where the point of her shorts would have began.[break][break]

The state of undress does little to faze her—hunger took precedence.[break][break]

“Oh, and uh... mornin' I guess,” she'd eye the councilman's state of disarray. “You got shitfaced last night.”[break][break]

The wild miltank-like licks of her hair suggested that she had not fared much better.

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Coffee would not solve the hunger, but she hoped it could curb its viciousness.[break][break]

Bailey dismounted from the counter, letting her feet grace the plush of a pristine kitchen mat. “How many of these places do you have?” A house for every day of the week?[break][break]

It was a possibility.[break][break]

She watched his search, letting her eyes absently observe his movement. There was no interest, just a look of fog as she felt her thoughts dislocate. Mornings were rough, and the Sergeant looked ready to retire back to bed than confront the new day.[break][break]

“Fuckin' starving,” was her immediate response to his question. “Always am after a night of drinking... least this time it was for a good reason: me.”[break][break]

Her lips pulled at the thought, curling into something proud.

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Bailey almost believed him.[break][break]

“Sheesh, you got the money to do it,” and she drummed her fingers on the counter, waiting for the coffee to start its brew.[break][break]

Her brow arched at his question.[break][break]

“Last time I got offered the breakfast of champions, it was just another drink.” Her stomach soured at the thought, knowing that would be like a match to gasoline. She needed something solid, not something to send her to the closest bathroom. “And... uh... delivery. Fuck it.”[break][break]

Something itched in the back of her mind. Was she forgetting something?[break][break]

Probably nothing important.

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Dietary restrictions?[break][break]

“Why would you think I'm on a diet?” Bailey's head swiveled like a Noctowl ready to take flight. “What the fuck?”[break][break]

Silence elapsed, letting time tick like sand through an hourglass before the actual meaning of his words dawned on her.[break][break]

“...Oh. Uh. No. I'm not allergic to shit. Wait, except... uh...” what was that lie she had told him all those months ago? "Like, nuts."

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