"George?" Killian's throat dried up. That man was fast. With how he didn't even hear a footstep before the knock, the man probably stood at the door waiting for him to wake up. "Come in…"
The door creaked open. His breathing hitched on seeing who. The person sat on the edge of his bed.
"Don't sit—" The words died in his throat.
Evelyn looked back at him, light green hair tied loosely behind her head and a half-finished drink in her hand.
Killian closed his eyes. "Never mind."
Relief hit him first. It wasn't George about to tear his limbs apart. Then embarrassment hit him because he had slept for half a day and his hair looked terrible. He slowly raised a hand and felt the rough, tangled mess on his head.
Evelyn watched the realization spread across his face, and a small smile tugged at her lips. "Good morning."
