The sun streamed through the porthole in a rude, blinding shaft of golden light, landing directly on Mirabelle's face.
She groaned, burying her face in the pillow to escape it, but the movement woke the creature beside her.
Revas shifted. He didn't wake up like a human, groggy and slow. He went from asleep to awake instantly. One moment he was a heavy, warm weight draped over her; the next, he was propped up on one elbow, staring at the roast chicken sitting on the bedside table.
"It's cold," Revas observed, poking the bird with a long finger. "Disappointing."
"It's food," Mirabelle mumbled into the pillow, her voice raspy from the night's activities. "Eat it."
"I intend to."
There was a wet tearing sound. Mirabelle cracked one eye open to see Revas ripping a leg off the chicken with primal efficiency. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed.
"Needs salt," he critiqued. He offered the leg to her. "Breakfast?"
