Inwardly, Pike winced. Crap. I never was very good at faking sleep. Doyle had left maybe twenty minutes ago. Pike was glad to see him, even if it did raise some uncomfortable questions about why so many people he knew ended up dying before their time. Buffy, who apparently had died more than once, Doyle, Benny, Rob the mechanic who had put him up in the apartment above his shop and let him work there, a bunch of people he tolerated (a few of whom he even kinda liked) at Hemery, and even kind of Merrick, the guy that by all accounts had saved his life when he was passed out drunk. Pike's track record with friendly deaths was really not great.
Those were the thoughts had prevented him from actually falling asleep after Doyle left. Dwelling on those he'd lost just didn't make for restful thoughts. Who knew? So instead he'd laid there trying to force sleep to come, even though by the hundredth sheep he was pretty sure it wasn't going to work. When he'd heard the doorknob turning, he just decided to try and fake sleep, hoping Faith would be too distracted by whatever she'd done out there to notice.
But she hadn't. And judging by the way she was slurring her words and the smell, she was pretty drunk. Yeah, this could end really well, or really badly. Here's hoping the former. He sat up a little bit, hiding the wince as his side twinged painfully. Once he was up, he propped himself up against the headboard in a roughly seated position. "Hey Faith." He smiled at her. "Good night out?" He was starting slow. But maybe, considering how drunk she was, he could actually get her to talk a little. That was his goal, anyway. He could only pray he didn't misstep.