It wasn't so much The Morning After as it was Twelve-Minutes-to-Three-O'-Clock-in-the-Afternoon After before his walking disaster zone of a grandson made an appearance. He looked like an extraordinarily malnourished panda, with his pasty face and dark bags under his eyes. His hair was unbrushed and sticking up at odd angles, he'd barely managed to pull on a pair of slacks, his jumper was skew-whiff, and he was looking very, very sorry for himself. Morose, even.

Ginrei watched as he stumbled over to the fridge, took out some orange juice and downed the thing in one straight from the carton. He watched as his grandson went through the motion of making a pot of coffee, clearly more from muscle memory of the actions than any real awareness of what he was actually doing. He watched as he swayed slightly, bracing himself against the kitchen counter with one hand, and attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes with the other, yawning heavily.

He watched as Byakuya picked up the discarded morning newspaper and tried to make sense of the front page, squinting, before giving it up as a bad job and setting it back down. He watched as he poured himself an incredibly large mug of black coffee (some of it even made its way into the mug; a lot of it ended up over his hand, and, in turn, wiped down the top of his trousers). He watched as his near-comatose form heaved itself into a chair at the table, before sitting there and just groaning.

He watched, eyebrow raised, until the moment Byakuya finally realised that there was someone else in the room with him.

Byakuya blinked slowly before leaning forwards on his left elbow, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't." His voice was hoarse and croaky. "Just… don't."

It took a great deal of effort to not burst out laughing, and if anyone asked, Ginrei was immensely proud of how he managed to keep it together, although, if one paid close enough attention, the twitching of his moustache would give the game away. He wondered if there were any disposable cameras lying about, missed and forgotten, and how many sneaky photographs he could take before his grandson noticed. Instead, however, he settled for simply asking, "Good night?"

It had been a good long while since he'd known his grandson to end up completely and utterly rat-arsed. In fact, it may have been the New Year's Eve party during Byakuya's first year at university when Shiba Kaien had somehow convinced him to try some questionable edibles. Turned out that his sociability improved drastically with illicit intervention.

The problems started when the drinking started.

They eventually ended about three days later.

The housekeeper earned her wages that week.

Rather than answer his question, Byakuya gave his grandfather and tired and withering, if somewhat pitiful, look.

"Ah well, Saito-san has already been by and finished cleaning up," Ginrei said. "The cheque should arrive Friday after next."

Byakuya's heart rose and then dropped upon the mention of her. She'd been back. She'd been back and now she was gone and he'd missed her. He stared gloomily into the depths of his coffee.

He'd have to track her down himself. Where was it she worked?

Sayo… sayo…Sayonara? No. No, that's not right. That's a film. Si… Se…

Ginrei rolled his eyes as Byakuya began muttering to himself. "She seemed like a nice girl," he said lightly, watching for any reaction.

"Hmm? Yes, very nice," he replied without thinking. Sel… Sel…

Well, now… Ginrei leant back in his chair and crossed his arms. That was interesting. He cleared his throat loudly, grabbing Byakuya's attention. "By the way, have you tended to the orchids recently? Today?"

Byakuya instantly frowned. "Why, what's-?"

"Oh, nothing drastic, but it does appear that one has a very interesting… affliction."

His grandson's brows furrowed even further, "Why? What's wrong with it?"

Ginrei shrugged nonchalantly, "You're the expert; I think it's best if you take a look yourself."

Byakuya nodded, "Right. Yes, of course. Yes… right away."

Ginrei bit down on his tongue and stared resolutely at Byakuya's forgotten coffee until he was absolutely certain that he was far enough away that he could not be heard before breaking down and sniggering gleefully to himself.

Clearly something about the indoor garden jogged his memory, foggy as it was, because the second he crossed the threshold, Byakuya blurted aloud, "Serendipity!" Yes. Yes, that was it.

Wait.

Why was he here again?

Oh, yes. Orchids.

Everything seemed to be in order, as he walked along the outer row. Certainly no obvious signs of-.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

Byakuya froze.

One of his most treasured varieties, the Paphiopedilum fairrieanum, was… Well, it was…

He glanced back at the door to make sure he was alone. He didn't know why. His Grandfather clearly already knew.

Interesting affliction, indeed.

Despite himself and his very sorry state, he felt the corners of his lips upturn into a broad, if sheepish, grin.

Not so much an affliction as a souvenir.

A very flimsy, black, lacy souvenir.

A very serendipitous souvenir.

He pocketed the offending article.

For safe keeping.

Obviously.