It might not be morning. It might be afternoon. Hawke was still getting used to this whole telling of the time in this reality, baby steps, right? He still thought it pretty damn miraculous that he could work the network.
"It's definitely one of my favourite things since I arrived here," he shared, a slow disarming smile catching on his lips and causing a cheek to dimple.
It was upon closer inspection that Hawke realised that in his zeal last night he had left a mark, on Michael, at the point where the other man's neck met his shoulder. "Uh, I seem to have-" He gestured towards Michael's neck. "Sorry about that."