He wasn't sure if it was a fist or an elbow, but something clocks him right in the mouth hard enough to make his head snap back. It wasn't the worst hit, not as bad as that douche from prom or even that time in seventh grade when he got hit in the face with a soft ball during gym, but enough to flinch and taste copper. Sliding off the bed he scrambled out from under the covers, carefully avoiding anything that might trip him and touching his lip, which was wet (fucking great) he stared at the vague Dee-like shape on the bed with a deepening frown.

"Oh, what the hell?" He muttered, staring hard and willing his eyes to adjust. "C'mon, I don't know what the fuck just happened, but everything's okay. Everything's fine. I'll just--" he cut off, blinking slowly and then squinting. It was Dee, it had to be her, but the more clearly he saw in the dark the more obvious it was that that was not her face.

Fuck.

Gaping, he backed up a step, nearly tripping on some clothing piece on the floor. "I'm getting Poison," he promised, voice strained.