Theocide had never been more of a temptation.
"Get the hell off me!" Sanzo gritted into Kanzeon's bosom.
"Mmm, awake and as charming as ever," the Bosatsu's voice was an amused purr above his head. Se slid one long, naked leg over his in a manner more closely related to the profane than the sacred. Fortunately the unfamiliar (and lumpy) pillow yielded a very familiar gun.
"Get. Off. Now."
Kanzeon sighed but rolled away, occupying as much of the bed as humanly (or in this case, divinely) possible without touching him. Sanzo took quick stock of his surroundings. The bed matched the pillow in quality of 'unwashed and uncomfortable', and he could see some of Goyjo's smaller relatives scuttling around the unswept floor. Judging from what light penetrated the fly-blown windowpane, it was almost sunset. He'd been unconscious several hours then.
"Where ar. . ."
The door opened. A sane man would have shut it again immediately. Hakkai merely hid his smile with a polite bow and an apologetic,
"Oh! I do hope I'm not interrupting Your Holinesses!"
Sanzo wanted to
be unconscious again.