74 Godiva Street, Wednesday Morning

[fjordicswagger]

Okay, so Death-- sorry, Didi-- might not've been able to get thoroughly tanked, but after a full pitcher of margaritas and then drinks at her place last night, Tamsin had passed out something fierce. Now she was paying for it with a hangover. A massive hangover.

"Ugh," she muttered, after the third time she woke up.

She hit the floor with a thump as she attempted to get out of bed. "Ugh," she repeated. "...Wait, am I still wearing my clothes?"

Yep. Last night's clothes. Ooookay. She clambered up to her feet and stumbled out into the hallway. What had she been doing yesterday night, anyway? She remembered something vaguely about having someone over, but it clearly wasn't for naked reasons. Probably told them to get lost at some point last night.

Right?

[[ for the anthropomorphic representation that did not, in fact, get lost last night. ]]

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[living_endless]

Said anthropomorphic representation of the inevitable was bustling back in the door just as Tamsin sat up, carrier holding fruit smoothies in one hand and bag of breakfast sandwiches in the other. Altogether, she looked much fresher than Tamsin did; even her eye of Horius was perfectly unsmudged.

There were advantages to reality shaping itself to your wishes.

"Morning," she called, holding up the bag with a flourish. "I brought breakfast. You'll feel much better after you eat something."

For a not-booty call, Didi had morning after etiquette down.