Hel tended to wear t-shirts to bed. Big ones, but still, just t-shirts. It was hot in New Orleans and getting hotter and muggier by the day. So it was actually the lack of sticky heat that was waking her up. It was far too comfortable. Was it raining? She'd need to close the windows.

She rolled over drowsily, and blinked. Twice.

"You are most certainly not my dog."