The alarm went off at seven.
Gabriel reached over and silenced it before the second tone.
Beside him Ethan had already pulled the blanket over his head, a preemptive response to the morning.
"Up," Gabriel said.
"No."
"Ethan."
"Five minutes."
"You said five minutes twenty minutes ago."
A pause from under the blanket. "That was a different five minutes."
Gabriel sat up. Looked at the blanketed shape beside him. "We have the Harlow briefing at nine. You're presenting."
Silence.
"Ethan."
The blanket moved. One eye appeared. "You could present it."
"It's your work."
"You could present my work."
"Get up."
The blanket was thrown back with considerable drama.
Ethan sat up, hair disordered, eyes at half capacity, wearing the expression of someone personally wronged by the existence of Monday.
He looked at Gabriel fresh-faced, already sitting upright like a person who had made peace with mornings years ago and pointed at him.
"I don't like you," Ethan said.
