Dancing. So much dancing. I've spent the last six hours dancing. There was also singing, talking, snacking and drinking. A lot if drinking. Dancing is tiring enough but drunk dancing is a whole new evil. And my head hurts. I'm in Paris with a headache. When did I get to Paris? I open my heavy eyes and the sun hits. My eyes burn as I stumble out of bed and close the curtains. Bed. It's a nice bed. Soft, bouncy, warm. I want to go back there. But I'm up now. And hungry. Really hungry. I'm half way across the room when something hits my head. An apple. I pick it up and quickly drink the red out of it. I'm still hungry. 'Want another?' Marshall asks, laughing. I turn to where he is sat in a chair I didn't notice. He hands me another apple and a bowl of strawberries. I quickly drink all the red from the food and throw the grey fruit in a bin. Then I float over to Marshall who is smiling as though he's just been told a funny joke. 'Sleep well?' He asks, a slight laugh mixing into his question. I shrug and before I can stop myself, I'm kissing him wildly. He pushes back onto the bed and presses against me. Eventually I can't take it and I tear his shirt off. My hands lay on his chest and his fingers dig into me. He makes long tears in my own shirt. He kisses me hungrily and I suddenly realise how dark and perfect it is.