Poppy had a frown on her face, her furrowed brow disrupting her otherwise peaceful face. She murmured and turned, resting her head on her hand, her curls frizzy from sleep. His shirt that she wore was wrinkled from tossing and turning in the night.
She flinched in her sleep before her eyes flew open and she looked up at him. She froze for a moment before relaxing, exhaling. "Francis," she said, obviously trying to be laid-back. "Hi."
"Seriously. I'm fine. Just a bad dream," she said, turning to kiss him, her hand curled against his chest to distract him.
She was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing his ribs through the shirt. “We’ve been arguing a lot lately.”