[Bel certainly hadn't. There's a certain fitful state where one's brain simply doesn't turn off. Alternating between blazingly angry, oddly touched, and overtly frustrated, Bel spent a great deal of the night thinking about the things they should have said in varying levels of drama.
The morning finds the herm with a blanket over their head as to not stare any longer at the dress and suit folded nicely on the dresser.
One hand blearily feels for the comm after the morning notifications turn back on, and drags it under the covers to check the message.]
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The morning finds the herm with a blanket over their head as to not stare any longer at the dress and suit folded nicely on the dresser.
One hand blearily feels for the comm after the morning notifications turn back on, and drags it under the covers to check the message.]