He would realise later that they'd most likely turned off the alarm at some point during the night before. It wasn't alcohol that kept him from remembering, but the fact that there were simply better things to remember from the events of the past twenty-four hours. In the grand scheme of things, waking up an hour late was not going to kill him and if he were being honest, he'd needed the sleep. Work was exhausting, not to mention he and Glibt hadn't spent a night that energetic in the bedroom in quite some time.
Mark only started to wake up once he turned over in bed and realised the Glibt was gone. He frowned as deeply as one could into a down pillow and then groaned his disappointment. His right side was cold, but he didn't want to get up.
Calling Glibt's name while face down in his pillow was not actually an effective way to get his girlfriend's attention, Mark eventually realised. While rolling out of bed was a far colder option, he forced himself to do so and reached around groggily for his old, plaid robe so that he could shuffle into the main part of the apartment.
"Getting the paper. Smells good," Mark muttered almost unintelligibly as he walked past the kitchen. He was generally barely functioning until his first cup of coffee, a phenomenon that Glibt would have been used to by this point. It became fairly obvious when there was a thud and a string of muttered curses as Mark his his head when he bent down to get the paper and a curious manila envelope sitting atop of the Times' familiar blue bag.
He slipped them both underneath his arm, wondering briefly if his mother was auditing him or some other such nonsense as he walked back into the kitchen.
"Food?" It was the first clear word Glibt heard from him after he briefly kissed her cheek.