The morning after - homeplot

Sybil is slow to wake in the morning. She's entirely too content to be in bed with the man she adores more than she can say, even if they fell asleep scandalously nude. The night had been a long one, filled with touches and kisses and sweet words of amazement whispered between them. Sybil had been shy after they had finished, but that shyness had faded, replaced with a curiosity and happiness she's never imagined.

The room is dark, and the bed is soft, softer than she remembers. She's sore as well, as she knew that she would be, in places that soreness is unfamiliar. "My love," she whispers to Henri, kissing him awake before reaching to turn on the lamp near her bed. Her hand touches glass instead, and she pauses, touching an all too familiar shape, pulling the lid off a container to the unmistakeable scent of biscuits. Biscuits she's not tasted in years. Sybil freezes, whispering Henri's name desperately when she hears a familiar voice at the door that fills her both with panic and joy unimaginable.

"Sybil, you know you have to come down for breakfast. Working late at the hospital is no excuse. Shall I send Anna to help you dress or are you going straight back to the hospital?" It's Edith at her door and she wants nothing more than to fly through the door and embrace her sister were she not nude and in the bed with a man.

"Of course," she calls out, meeting Henri's panicked eyes. "To the hospital, I'm afraid. Please apologise to Carson for me, I shall be right down."