[ As Matt shifts, Tezcatlipoca at least lets go of him so that he can sit up and stretch like he wants. He rolls onto his back again and stretches as well. It’s a full extension of his arms and legs, and with the big yawn that comes with it, it’s distinctly feline in impression. Being the patron god of the jaguars means you pick up some of their behavior, or maybe it’s vice versa. Either way, he sits up right after too and scrubs at his face with his hands. ]

I can cook breakfast. Won’t be fancy, but it’ll work. Pacholas n’ eggs?

[ He might not pepper in Spanish as freely as Quetzalcoatl did, but it still rolls smoothly off his tongue in the same way. He grunts as he stands and wanders over to a rickety looking dresser and pulls open a drawer (which squeaks loudly, unfortunately). He grabs a pair of sweatpants and tosses them back towards Matt, then a second pair that he tosses over his shoulder. ]

Shower fuckin’ sucks, as is. Cold as hell unless you got some magic to heat it up. [ He turns back to Matt and shrugs ] I can do it if you don’t care about showerin’ together.

[ Like. He figures not, considering they just spent the night cuddling by virtue of his tiny bed, but. Might as well (half) ask. ]