Come Feed the Rain

When Thomas woke up, the sun was streaming in through the window, and he could see brilliant blue sky through a space in the thin curtains. His mouth felt bone dry, but his head didn't throb, a pleasant surprise. Some part of him had expected the vampire safe tequila to have given him every effect of real alcohol. As it was, Thomas couldn't remember coming back to the house and falling asleep; the last thing he remembered was getting back on Lestat's plane and deciding he was going to take a nap.

Maybe someone had dragged him back to the house and tossed him on his bed.

With the shambling, bleary gait of a sobering college student, Thomas shuffled into the bathroom and set himself to the not-inconsiderable task of sluicing off the remnants of debauchery and alcohol.

*****

Half an hour and a thoroughly steamed up bathroom later, he stood in the middle of the bedroom he shared with Alice, a towel around his hips, as he checked his voicemail. The blearily blank expression on his face faded into worry and perplexity as he listened, and, by the time Thomas clicked 'save', a deep frown was growing. He sank into a seat on his bed, staring at the phone in his hand, while the other ran absentmindedly through damp dark hair.

((Tag Alice!))