[ He doesn't get cold, per se, but he enjoys shivering when the heat of the indoors hits him, just to show he appreciates it. Little mortal things like that. Chai and a hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows, please. The poor baristas seem to have transformed into zombies a few hours prior, so he blanks them after that to tuck Billy's bangs behind an ear. ]

Post-party-party plans? Certainly. Letting this migraine abate as I sip the goodly sweetness of chocolate and yourself, preferably in pyjamas, in bed.

[ Oh. He should ... probably ask. Things. ]

Ah, if you want to stay in my room with me tonight, that is, instead of walking the endless corridor back to yours.