Chihirp

TW: Slight language. Perhaps it was the coffee, or maybe there was something in the sweets that Worick had brought home from his other appointment, you suspect. For in the midst of the quiet confines of your makeshift room, save the restless rustling of your sheets - - you cannot sleep. You were tired, truly. Yet you can no longer take count of the times you have yawned, some even forced, as you await for the wave of lethargic somnolence you’ve been yearning since your head had hit the pillows. And that was five hours ago. A defeated sigh escapes you as you turn to your other side yet again, feeling a cold weary rivulet tracing it