Eventually, Francis couldn't hold on to sleep and sat up. A mirror in the room showed him in far less elegant style than yesterday. His hair matted, the waves looking more like tangles, but at least his eyes looked bright from decent sleep, though his smile ended up pasted on. As expected, waking up left him with a sad pit in his stomach. He wandered ton the kitchen where he smelled the start of food. Arthur had his back to him so Francis cleared his throat. "Morning, mon cher."