Introspection

Shadow was up before sunrise, keeping the blinds drawn more for practicality than necessity. He needed little light to navigate, and it spared him Rouge's inevitable complaints about her sensitive eyes in the other room. Normally, his morning routine was efficient, putting on his socks and skate shoes, securing the clasps of his inhibitor rings, and stepping out of his room to start his morning routine, but today felt different. That nagging sense of forgetting something lingered from the night before, following him into dreams he could barely recall, save for a faint feeling of déjà vu. Lying in bed, he tried to brush it off, but his thoughts kept circling back to the previous evening. His mind snagged on how Amy had thanked him at the end of the night; he wasn't sure why she thought the thanks was necessary, but the feeling was mutual. The memory sat heavy, and he couldn't quite place why. Shaking off the thought, he forced himself to dress, but Rouge's relentless teasing about their dinner kept creeping into his mind. Damn. Did Amy have a similar impression, that his intentions may have been elsewhere? Was dinner together not something friends did? No, of course they did. He never thought twice about his visits with Rouge to the same restaurant. So why did every train of thought keep leading him back to the same questions? What were his intentions in the first place? It was just a dinner but, should he be upset if Amy thought of it differently? Should he apologize?

He rubbed his temples to massage away the uncertainty, and stepped into the main area of his apartment. Just like the other apartments on base, the sparse space compacted the kitchen, dining, and living rooms together. Rounding the kitchen island, his body moved on autopilot while his mind worked to shake off the morning haze. He stifled a yawn as he retrieved an airtight jar of pre-ground espresso, a percolator pot, and a small jar of honey from the corner cabinet beside the sink. Once the coffee was on the stove, he turned his attention to tidying up. After putting away the stray glass on the counter, he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash his face, and begin the minimalist grooming routine required for his quills.

The rich aroma of brewing coffee, accompanied by the grumbling of the percolator, drew him back into the kitchen, but it wasn't the only sound that signaled the morning's start. The soft rustle of fabric from the living room signaled that Rouge was beginning to stir from her sprawled position on the couch. "I forgot how good your coffee smells," she murmured groggily, her words broken by a yawn as she stretched her arms and wings overhead. The latter flapped lazily, an unconscious effort to shake off sleep. A weary smile spread across her face as she rubbed her eyes, "Last thing I remember smelling was your attempt at making lunch."

Shadow shot her a dry look as he retrieved two mugs from the cabinet. "I'm surprised you could smell it over the overwhelming amount of perfume you wear," he retorted.

Rouge snorted in amusement as she pushed the blankets off her legs. Standing, she adjusted her tank top and the hem of her underwear, completely unbothered by Shadow's pointed silence. His discomfort was immediate; he focused intently on preparing his coffee. The teaspoon of honey clinked against the ceramic mug. "Why do you refuse to sleep with pants on?" he grumbled, annoyance evident in his tone.