Sleeping assistant

She jumped in surprise at the sight of a gentleman sprawled out asleep in a small armchair wedged up next to the window. There was a book held limply in his hand, an arm propped along the chair. The book had begun drooping forward into his cheek, papers wrinkled into his forehead.

“Oh,” Remy said, coming up behind Briar. “Draven won’t like that,” he laughed, walking over to the sleeping gentleman and pulling the book off of his face. The man started, jerking forward with a sharp inhale and then sitting up properly.

“W’time s’it?” he mumbled blearily, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. There were ink stains on his palms, a blotch on his temple and a smear in one of his eyebrows. He stood, books and papers spilling onto the ground around him as he cleared his throat and stretched. His dark brown hair was mussed and sticking upwards in multiple directions, no longer wearing any sort of uniform jacket but instead dressed in just a delicate white undershirt and a pair of trousers.