There are two people in the hall —

Dorothy, who is finishing off some of last night’s meat and bread,

and pretty boy, fully across the hall, who is slumped over on a couch doing some very early day drinking.

They both look like they haven’t slept.

Holy shit, Dorothy and pretty boy spent all night fucking.

Yeah. Okay. That tracks. He would have done the same in either of their positions. They're both super hot, except for Dorothy who is a girl, and pretty boy drank a truly insane amount of lust potion last night, and neither of them got their leg cut halfway off.

Also one of them is probably the murderer slash mailman slash dreamer? Good news if so. Would mean he doesn't have to murder Z. Hopefully it's the pretty boy, he seems way easier to kill.

...probably the strategic thing to do here would be to sneak back to bed and give no sign that he saw them, but he's actually ravenous and leftovers sound amazing.

Pretty boy, upon seeing Camillo enter, immediately makes himself scarce out the other exit, still holding his alcohol.

Dorothy makes a vague motion to welcome him.

There is a glass jug of actual water on the table next to her.

His headache has never been more grateful for anything. He is going to gulp water straight from the jug like an absolute savage.

Dorothy laughs between bites of boar.

"Shut up," he says automatically, wiping water off his chin.

Gesturing after the pretty boy: "So what's his deal?"

(Hopefully, Camillo figures, that's a vague enough question to fly under the radar even if he's supposed to know exactly who the pretty boy is.)

“To know that, I’d have to talk to him.”

Definitely fucking all night.

"You're up early."

Christ he's bad at talking to girls.

“So are you.”

She glances down at his leg. (Probably his leg.)

“I’m surprised you’re conscious.”

"Me too."

Probably it's because he's the one person in this place not hung over this morning. But that feels like admitting weakness.

"Long night?"

God he sounds stupid. Shut up shut up shut up.

“Very.”

She sounds tired just thinking about it.

How do you talk to girls. Especially how do you talk to incredibly terrifying girls you might need to murder later.

"Your girlfriend definitely looked out of it."

WOW THAT WAS A BAD CHOICE.

“My — what?”

She’s putting together several implications and seems to like none of them.

"I just mean the girl in your bed looked really sleepy," he clarifies desperately, a little louder than he intended.

“You were looking in my bed,” she says, inviting him to keep digging.

Camillo has never passed up an opportunity to keep digging. 

“Um. More like at your bed? I had to pee and I got turned around!”

“…right. It was your first night there. Officially.”

Oh thank god he has an excuse for not knowing things. 

“Yeah. It’s exciting.” 

That’s a safe option, right? Camillo shoves cheese in his mouth to stop himself from talking. 

Dorothy looks, incredibly, a little fond.

“Welcome home.”

She turns back to her food.

Now he’s bright pink with a mouth full of cheese. 

…Z might be worried about him. He grabs a half a loaf of bread and some kind of smoked meat — he can hear his dad’s voice in his head about all this meat sitting out all night, Valentine would be outraged, but smoked is probably fine — and sets about finding his way back. 

Z has never been a morning person.