Femme Fatale

Minutes past six in the morning, Weiss comes around with a start. 

He ended up dozing off on his study desk with his laptop still flipped open. The sun has long started to rise, filling his dim bedroom with warm light. He hears his phone buzzing on and on at his side. Yawning the residual drowsiness away, he sits up straight and reaches for it. 

His mind briefly strays to the dream he's just had, yet before it dwells too much into it, his fingers have already pressed the button on his phone screen, answering the call. 

"Let me guess…" came Fallon's voice, which didn't surprise Weiss at all.

"You couldn't pull an all-nighter even after three cups of black coffee?"

Not a single greeting. Direct to the point. 

Indeed, it's Fallon.

"Sorry. But I'm not you and Lady…" Weiss quipped, smiling.

"My body clock calls the shots, not your strong ass caffeine."

"Well, screw your body clock…" Fallon scoffed half-heartedly.