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Whiskers brushed against Russell's face. With a tired groan, he sleepily waved a hand, opening his eyes when he felt Loki firmly biting his hand. "I'm up," Russell muttered groggily, opening his eyes halfway. "What?" Loki hopped from the bed and raced to the door, scratching his claws down old grooves in the wood. Sitting up, Russell glanced at his watch, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw it was eleven in the morning. Loki continued scratching at the door, meowing insistently. Russell went to the door and opened it, heading to the bathroom as Loki rushed downstairs. As Russell was reaching for his toothbrush, voices filtered up to him, and he paused. The skin on his neck prickled and he put his toothbrush aside, listening hard to the voices, but not recognizing them. Russell clenched his fists, feeling unsettled, before he left the bathroom and headed downstairs. "Thank you for bringing it back." Russell entered the living room to see his father talking to a brown-haired person.