a drabble

Wrote this at that ideal writing hour between 2:39 and 3:39 am a few days ago - it was meant to segue into a discussion of the Eliot/Eric scene from the first Magicians book, but I have no idea how I planned on getting there. So I'm posting it here instead.

Morning arrived with indecent light and heat, as it always seemed to do after a long night of drinking. Quentin found himself awake only a few hours after he’d accidentally drifted off, blinking muzzily to awareness in the rumpled living room of the Cottage. ( Read more... )