Waking Up is Hard to Do

His mouth tasted like the floor mat of a New York cab.

"Whaaaa...."

That was the best he could do. He had wanted to ask, "What happened? I don't remember anything after taking that drink." but his tongue was completely uncooperative. His lips weren't much better. They were forming the right shapes but not in the right order. The next few sounds were so unintelligible even he wasn't sure what they meant.

Across the dimly lit room, there was a vague bit of motion. It caught his attention but, because of how utterly drained his muscles felt, all he could do was incline his head and try to focus on whatever it was without being able to lift his head.

Because of this exhausted paralysis Ravyn spectacularly failed to dodge the thrown cushion coming for his aching face.

FOOF!

"Sh'up!" That was a growl from somewhere the direction of the padded projectile. The snarl with which it was spoken meant the person talking could be only one person.

"Leth?"

FOOF!

A second cushion hammered the first one, shoving both into his head. Despite how soft they were, the force behind them made the impacts almost hurt.

"Shut up or I'm throwing the couch next, Duck."

From the sound of it, his blue-skinned shadow fatale was in some considerable pain. That almost gave him the strength to get up. Almost. He did manage to summon enough willpower to move his head from side to side, pushing the pillows into the floor so he could see again.

Whispering now, he asked, "Leth? Are you all right?"

The voice that answered him was hidden and muffled, apparently coming from a pile of shredded cloth and foam in the corner. It took Ravyn a few seconds to realize the debris was the remains of a second bed, several sheets and what appeared to be a waitress' uniform. Or two. Maybe three.

Damn.

"No, dumbass. I's hunged over... Ummm... I'm hunged over. Feh. Hung overed." There was a snarl of frustration accompanied by the sleepy groans of at least two different people. "I was drunk. Now I ain't."

"Ah... I understand."

Leth's voice became a hiss. "You understand... and yet you still keep talking."

Ravyn fell silent, lifting his head just enough to regard the room more closely. There was a small pile of empty shot glasses on what was left of a table in the corner. He dimly wondered how the table could be such a wreck by the glasses still stacked neatly. He decided not to question that too much; it made his head hurt.

Actually, come to think of it, everything made his head hurt right now. His own breathing was really loud. There was a low, thundering noise that smashed painfully against his skull, making him wince in anguish.

So this was the downside of drinking. Before everything in his life changed, his incredibly fast metabolism made such things inconsequential. He could get drunk and sober in the space of a few minutes, none the worse for it. He had never experienced a hang over. This was an entirely new sensation.

It didn't take him long to decide something.

He never wanted to feel this again.

He looked around again, partially out of a growing need to do something unfortunate off the side of the bed but mostly because his awakening body - particularly his chest - was starting to send him some very odd signals.

"Leth?" He spoke as quietly as he could, only daring to make any sound because the question he needed to ask was one of dire import - one that truly had to be asked immediately.

"I will kill you. Don't doubt it, Duck."

"Just one thing, Leth..."

"Then will you shut up?" There was another groan, this one male. Apparently not all of those shredded clothes were from waitresses.

"I will."

"Good." The shredded lust nest moved a bit, eventually disgorging Leth's face from between a tangle of arms draped over him. "What?"

"I remember coming here to the bar."

The elf nodded, a black lace bra strap hooked over his right ear. "Yeah?"

"And I remember taking that drink... the Purgatory stuff..."

Leth nodded, his increasingly annoyed expression slightly mollified by the patterns of lipstick smeared all over his face. "Yeah?"

"I even think I remember passing out."

"Please, Duck. For the love of Elune would you get to the bloody point?"

Ravyn sighed, more than a little embarrassed by the next question. "I don't remember going out and getting this tattoo."

There was a slight grin from the elf now, his irritation gone for the moment. "Oh, the Anarchy symbol? Yeah. I figured you'd like it." Lethane rummaged around in the bed pile near him and lifted a sleeping woman's head up by her hair. "Beth here does good work, huh?"

Ravyn groaned. The mark, though painful, was not unattractive. It was several shades of red, fading from near black to blood red to crimson to a bright scarlet near the tips of each line. It was bigger than he'd have liked, covering his entire upper chest and extending down a little past his ribs. Still, it wasn't terribly painful. Compared to his pounding migraine, it was almost a relief to feel.

"Yes... I guess she does. Sorry, Leth. I'll be quiet now." He was getting tired again anyhow. Perhaps a long nap and a cold shower afterwards would kill the evil of this hang over.

"No problem, big guy."

Then, after a long silence, Leth added, "I was afraid you were going to ask about your new piercing."

.

..

...

"WHAT!?!?!"