...is the Father

Beck:

“Mornin’ Beck.” Briar yawned like a lioness waking from her slumber, sliding into the steel stool with her wild bird’s nest of dark locks, flopping her head down onto her arms with a monstrous groaning grunt.

Chuckling lightly, sliding a fresh mug of coffee into her outstretched hand as she flashed me a tilted smirk.

“Rough night at the club?” Pouring two more mugs for my Monarch and Macy