Helena, 4.4
Helena pressed her palms against her eyes. Ugh, I hate hangovers. she thought groggily, sitting up in bed. She looked at Arnold, sleeping peacefully next to her. She snorted. He had tossed and turned all night; of course once she woke up he was sleeping soundly. She slid out from under the covers and touched her toes to the cold wooden floor of her apartment. They squeaked beneath her. Helena flinched. The last thing she wanted to do was wake Arnold up. It had been tough to get him to sleep in the first place. He had continued to insist upon love and relationships, while she had just insisted upon sleep. But he had been convincing, and they had went out for a few more drinks afterwards, as they had been wide awake, and...
Well, things, as they always do, got out of hand.
She stared at her hand, unsure of the ring placed upon it. It was only an engagement, luckily. She was going to tell him that it was off. She was glad that she remembered it at all; else she would have had to at least attempt to kill Arnold. She plucked it off her finger in disgust and held it guiltily in her palm, examining it. It looked a lot less luminous when sitting in her palm. She pulled on her robe with a frown and pocketed the treasure, unsure what to do with it. No matter. There was time for these things.
She stared at the heap of clothes they had left behind on the floor, curious. Arnold's leather jacket was at the very bottom. Helena quietly bent over and unearthed it, feeling the soft worn leather between her fingers. She pulled it close, just holding it. Helena looked again at the sleeping figure lying in bed. Yes, it was best not to wake him for now.