Trev Scabior sold his scruples for a galleon. (opportunist) wrote in wished,
The aroma of bacon drifted further upstairs, permeating the bedroom and finally reaching a level that would rouse even Trevor. His eyes opened slowly and looked around, taking a moment for his brain to get up to speed. The bacon, that was obviously Verity, and Gretchen...he let himself settle back against the pillow for a moment and grinned, recalling the past several hours. That was almost worth getting as disgruntled as he had been about how she handled everything. Almost.
Grunting softly, he ran a hand through his hair and started struggling out of the twisted blanket cocoon he'd made. He looked around on the floor and eventually located his trousers behind a chair, pulled them on and followed the delicious scent of bacon. "FUCK!" He stubbed his toe on the bed frame as he passed and squawked loudly, hopping place as he waited for the sudden pain to ebb. "Fuck!"