A great lay
Ivo woke up with a gasp and a racing heart. He was covered in sweat and -- he raised the covers to look down at himself -- something else.
The only saving grace was that Vice was no longer in bed, Ivo wasn't sure if he could handle the mockery this early in the morning. He put on some underwear he found in a set of drawers at the foot of the futon and went down the stairs.
Actually, maybe Vice wouldn't mock him. Alina had said that no one dreamed anymore, except when using specific drugs. Ivo seemed to be an exception. It probably strengthened the theory of him being a clone.
He had spent the better part of last night trying to forget about that, and he wasn't about to start spinning his wheels so early in the morning.
"Vice?"
He looked around the apartment but there was no sign of Vice anywhere. He had a cursory look around but he found no notes or other indications of where Vice might have gone to.