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[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly wakes up in the morning with a headache.

He's not much of a drinker, but he knows a hangover when he feels one, and this is a hangover. An especially bad hangover. How much...how much Greek brandy had been in those things?

He starts to drag himself out of bed: sheer force of habit. There's always something to get up and do, no matter how bad you feel. But wait, hang on, there isn't really, not here in this place. So he covers his face with his hands and groans pathetically. And hopes Harry isn't too annoyed with him.

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[harryhotspur]

Harry himself is close at hand-- or so it is revealed when he peeks through the door just a few minutes later. And grins.

"Why, good morning to thee!"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Oh God. I'm so sorry, was I--I was really--I didn't think they were that strong."

[harryhotspur]

"Thou need'st not beg my pardon," Harry says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. "Thou hadst just cause, sure."

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly makes a faint, pathetic noise. But it's true, Harry has a point. It was for a good reason. "...Did everyone enjoy themselves? I mean--as much as--"

[harryhotspur]

"Methinks they did?" If he doesn't sound totally convinced-- "I own I find it strange. To so mark such a day."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Yes, it's--it's not how I would plan it. But Courfeyrac is--he's wonderful at pulling people together. He was smiling just as much when--when we fought."

Slowly, he sits himself up, and closes his eyes.

[harryhotspur]

"Ay, 'tis plain he hath a merry spirit," he says. "And he spoke well, when I told him I thought it strange." Because of course Harry told him that.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Oh, you talked with him? Good. Had you met him before?"

(oh god he might die all over again please don't turn on any lights harry)

[harryhotspur]

Yeah, he looks-- Harry pats his shoulder.

"Hast need of anything?" he asks. "It was the first that e'er I met him, and I hope he be the last! Thou hast a very battalion of friends, I am no match for't."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"I think you've met everyone. Well--there's Grantaire, but--"

He breaks off with an unhappy noise and leans his forehead against Harry. "I might have to kill Courfeyrac. What was in those?"

[harryhotspur]

Harry lays his hand on Feuilly's head and (very very gently) pats it.

"I know not-- thou didst say it was some manner of Greek wine...?"

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Hmmnnnnnghhh. Tsiporou, it's Greek, yes..." As long as he stays very still like this, Feuilly thinks he might not die after all. Or do anything too disgraceful. "How embarrassed do I need to be?"

[harryhotspur]

Harry will just stroke his hair, then. Even still, nearly a year on, his way with such gestures is-- clumsy. But he tries!

"Nay, naught. Thou didst celebrate with thy friends."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Right. And--and there's nothing wrong with talking about Greek independence." No, really, there isn't! He just...maybe kind of remembers talking with Eric the vampire about it. As well as everyone else.

[harryhotspur]

Harry's trying not to laugh, really. "Ay, and I doubt not any Greek would say so."