Proxy woke up slowly, the way he always did when there was no immediate network urgency demanding otherwise.
It was that gray territory between sleep and waking, the body resting while the mind ran its quiet inventory of what had happened and what had changed.
What had changed was the weight.
Something warm across his chest. Something over his arm. Hair against his neck, which was a detail that arrived with a specificity he did not remember requesting.
He became fully conscious and remained still, checking his situation from a position of temporary caution.
His cyberware reached outward as a reflex and found the network intact, the perimeter monitoring returning clean.
He then returned his attention to the more immediate situation.
Nyx was sprawled across him.
This was fully sprawled. Her arm was across his chest. Her head was on his shoulder, with her hair spread across both of them in a way that confirmed the intimacy. Her leg was over his.
