Ravensblood Forest I'd rather drown

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Arturo was not habitually a deep sleeper. Whether this had came about during his initial ascension as Ceannasach in Quicksilver Hollow or if it was permanent fixture that came along with being a father he didn't know and supposed it really didn't matter. Even in slumber he was alert, for calls from The Family or any sign of danger. To this extent Arturo was an early riser and the fact that his young ward, Chusi, had awoken before him was a rarity. Sleeping in was not a luxury the gangster ever really afforded himself (and heaven knew his children had never given him the luxury) he jolted awake, groggy and disoriented when he felt something collide with the side of his body; hard. For a moment he blinked, unseeing, as he struggled to realize that he was awake and secondly, that the body that had slammed full force into his own was not someone trying to kill him but rather his young ward.

The gangster let out a low grunt and curse under his breath. “Chusi, Chusi; I'm up. I'm up.” He assured her, using repetition in the hopes that she did not feel it necessary to ram into his side again, lest she hurt herself or him. “What's wrong?” He was still a little disoriented, startled from his sleep as he'd been. “Why're -,” He let out a yawn, blinking rapidly at her silhouette in the dark confines of the den they shared. “-why're you smacking me about?” He half-heartedly demanded before another yawn split his maw wide. 'Smacking him about' was almost too nice of a way to say body slamming him but he didn't bother to correct his murmured question, the deep, smoky reticence of his tone like the soft, rumbling roll of thunder on a gathering storm still laced with the traces of slumber he hadn't been quite ready to wake up from.

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