Maybe he'd let his bed get too fantastic. It could get to be a problem. But not one he was currently thinking of. No, what little thought he had available went into curling more towards Tamsin.

There was a sharp noise from elsewhere in the house. The door bell. In response, there was a much softer noise from Mike. Disgruntled confusion, probably.

For a moment, Mike tried ignoring the noise. It seemed like an unnecessary infringement on his good morning. But then it refused to stop so he had to pry his eyes open.

"The fuck...?"

Didn't these people know he had a morning to waste?

"You are a terrible house guest," Mike declared, pushing himself up. Reluctantly. Also, she was no such thing. But he got himself off the bed and on to his feet, and stumbled towards the door.

On the way he grabbed blindly for something he hoped would be his shorts, but which turned out to be his shirt. Whatever, whoever was at the door was just going to have to deal with the fact that he'd be covering up just the bare minimum.

Mike wasn't gone very long. And when he was back, his presence was announced by his laugh. "Hate to break up what looks like a very intimate moment between you and my blanket, but it looks like I ordered breakfast last night."

He was holding two paper bags. They said Mooby Land.

"It doesn't count as drunk dialing if you can vaguely recall it." That wasn't how it worked, and also he'd only been able to vaguely recall it after being reminded. Whatever, he was crawling back in bed. Just with bags of junk food. "Different vibe. Doesn't count."

Mike... decided to be an ass and hold it out of her reach.

"Say please."

He was 99% sure she was not going to say please.

"Ow," Mike said. For show. "I feel like I should have a safeword."

He dropped the bag by her on the bed.

"Sober me thanks you on his behalf. He's a pretty decent guy." These days, anyway. And peering into his own bag, Mike saw that at least he'd ordered full meals (complete with the Egga Mooby Muffin type breakfast additions), so he had that going for him.

"I remember that from last time," Mike noted, taking a sip of something far too sugary for the morning through a straw. "Only the finest junk for you, Tamsin."

"It's the thought that counts," he decided, because he was nice like that. "And really, you were already showing a lot of appreciation for what's really my finest junk last night, so..."

"Yours is pretty fine too," Mike replied, with a smirk because there was no way of saying that and not smirking. The idle leering was an added bonus. "I'd high five you for that if your hands weren't full."

"High fiving is lame but clogging your arteries in bed is just fine?" Mike asked with an amused eyebrow raise. While eating a muffin. "You're a strange woman."

"Uh huh, sure." That was clearly the reason. Clearly. "I don't know, I think dignity is overrated."

A very surprising opinion from someone who'd danced around in a thong for a living.