Giselle eventually emptied her glass, filled half of it up and drank that one, too. Weird days required weird measures, but she could barely think straight as it was. Her days of getting drunk regularly were long gone, the wine usually was for pleasure only. And to break the ice on couple's night. Not that she needed that ice breaker, usually, but it also tasted good.

Despite her efforts to compose herself, her mind played tricks on her, taking her back to last week's couple's night and how Ian had made her.... "Ah fuck, that was really mean, y'know?", she finally frowned at Annie with a slightly angered expression.

The blonde filled up her glass again, and shrugged, "You're overreacting. I guess I did want to tease you a bit...". When Giselle's expression didn't change and even more furrows spread across her forehead, Annie gave her a different glance, one she couldn't place and whispered, "I don't have that much time to date, so sometimes I stay awake until you go to bed and let my fantasies drift". The brunette just stared. This revelation came unexpected. Hearing it softened her a little, but there was a What-the-fuck in her mind as tall as a skyscraper. When she shook her head in disbelief, her vision spun. It was nauseating. "Definitely too much wine....", she groaned and with that forgot most of her indignation. Annie agreed with a nod and crunched more potato chips.

After an additional, uneasy fifteen minutes, Giselle realized that she hadn't prepared the couch. The conversation was dead and would be tough to revive.

Both women were quite shaky and borderline drunk. At least that's what she told herself until she stood up and the room started to spin around her for a moment. Slowly they shared the preparation work. Annie carried glasses and bottles into the kitchen, Giselle fetched blanket and sheets from the bedroom. Ian didn't turn of the reading lamp when he fell asleep. When all was settled and dark, they told each other good night and went to their respective beds. Curled up under the blankets, they stared into the darkness, and sleep came easy to neither of them.

In the morning, when Giselle dragged herself out of the bed to the bathroom, her head felt like someone was squeezing it into a very small container of screws and nails. She passed by the couch absentmindedly. It took time until the brain started to work. Didn't they have a guest?

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On her way back to wake Ian, she looked at the couch. Neatly folded sheets and blanket and a small paper on the table.

"Thanks for letting me crash! Text me! - Annie" and underneath a cell number.

Giselle glanced at the wall clock. 9:47am. They had overslept the alarms. And if she had been 10 years younger, she would have started to panic. Oversleeping more than two hours. Back then? Unthinkable. Now she just picked up the phone from her bed, dialed and when someone answered on the other side: "Dean's attire for the gentleman. This is Laureen Munroe speaking.", she just said with a rusty voice, "Hey Laury, it's me. I came down with a fever and feel like crap. I'll text you tonight whether it improves, alright?".

Laureen showed a kind understanding and added, "Sure, take care of yourself. I called twice and when you didn't pick up I almost got worried". "Sorry, do-not-disturb mode", answered Giselle, too much in pain to be empathetic. "Yea, I get it. Get well, Giselle!", the coworker said and cut the call after Giselle had said a brief "Bye" into the phone. The lie didn't even make her flinch. Being honest to Laureen Munroe means gossip. It'd make it through half their regular customers before noon.

Then she poked Ian. Who grunted and blinked at her. "You look like crap! What happened?", he whispered sleepily. "Wine happened. It's almost ten. Go to work", she grumbled and fell back into the sheets. Something she regretted instantly when her head exploded into a million stars. "Fuck my life...", she groaned and turned to one side.

"Almost 10? Why didn't you wake me?", Ian jumped out of the bed and rushed into the bathroom. Giselle barely noticed. She tried to cope. How did Annie manage to leave already? Was she a robot? The thoughts slowed and she dazed into an uneasy state between sleep and being awake.

When Giselle opened her eyes again, she felt better. A lot better. And thirsty. On her phone were three messages and two calls after she had turned the do-not-disturb mode off. Laury's two calls and one message, Ian left the two remaining ones. "Annie left you a note! Remember to save the number into your cell!" with a photo of Annie's note attached to the text and "There's breakfast in the kitchen. Get well, soon! Love you!". Sometimes Ian was considerate and sometimes... not. Giselle was quite moved however, and she smiled at the messages for a minute until she slowly made her way into the kitchen.