Lucky for his ego (though it was doubtful if anything could dent that construct), only forty-five minutes had passed before the door to the stairs opened and his quarry emerged, head down as she fished in her purse for her apartment keys. The soft, quick tap of her heels was quickly swallowed by the carpet and she was nearly on top of her guest before she saw him. Kami drew up short with a faint squeak and almost dropped her keys. She managed to catch them at the last moment with a jangle.
For a moment, she stood there and stared at the young man spread across her doorstep. There was no way she could get by without waking him but... This was Rick and Kami felt the prick of her conscience. She had been studiously avoiding him, unwilling to risk old wounds being prodded when her friend talked about the show. But just standing there and looking at him, the missing grew in her stomach and she grimaced. There was no denying it; in protecting her ego from harsh reminders of what she lost, she was losing more. She was losing Rick and that was totally unacceptable.
Decision made, Kami lowered her purse to the ground and carefully crouched down beside Rick, balancing on her heels with absent ease. Then she moved the magazine away from his face and, with gentle fingers, feathered his hair back off his face. "Wake up, my prince," she murmured. "You've slept so long."