The head of the bed was a mess of blond and pink hair when Quentin woke up in the morning. Ever since he was a kid he had a habit of tossing turning a bit in his sleep, so it was normal for him to be seeing pink when he first opened his eyes. But today he was also pushing blond away as he gradually gained consciousness-- oh right, Gwen was here. Last night was the party. It was all coming back to him.

He had a headache, making him a bit hesitant to open his eyes-- but that was odd, he hadn’t ended up drinking last night. At least not that he remembered. Things were quiet, no hum of other people’s thoughts to sort through and tune out. The more awake Quentin felt the more he realized something was off, and eventually he sat up-- just a bit too fast, making him a tad dizzy and then more blond hair was in face and--

Wait, that wasn’t right. Quentin combed a few fingers through his hair and inspected it when they caught on the tangles. Yup, that was blond. It tapered off into pink at the ends but that wasn’t the detail he was focused on.

And there, right next to him on the bed, he spotted the pink mohawk.

“Gwen.” Her name was said as more of a statement than a greeting when he approached her. Why he even approached her at all was a mystery-- he could have gone out for the night on his own as per his original plan. But here he was. Talking to Gwen. He hated it, whatever it was inside him that was making him want to talk to her and be around her, but he was tolerating it for now.