[Despite his bone-weary tiredness and the innate desire to not move until morning come hell or high water, Durham is hard-wired to both recognise and repel Oxford even in this state. There's little -short of unconsciousness itself- that could prevent him from grimacing at the other operative's voice, his own body tensing the moment an arm winds around him. He's not expecting company and he certainly isn't expecting Oxford's.]
What on Earth! [The speed at which he rips himself from that arm and out of the bed still leaves much to be desired where all things relating to grace are concerned. When he arrived it was tiredness that robbed him of it and this time, in his stomach-clenching mixture of abject horror and indignant fury, he's fallen out of the bed and on to the floor.]
no subject
What on Earth! [The speed at which he rips himself from that arm and out of the bed still leaves much to be desired where all things relating to grace are concerned. When he arrived it was tiredness that robbed him of it and this time, in his stomach-clenching mixture of abject horror and indignant fury, he's fallen out of the bed and on to the floor.]