Nyteshaed had been attempting to sleep off a hangover, but it seemed like another morning of screaming voices had other ideas. She buried her pounding head in her pillow and attempted to block out the noise, but her brain had decided she was up and going to deal a throbbing headache and a mouth that tasted like a brewery shit in it. She slowly opened her eyes and quickly closed them as the weak sunlight coming through her blinds stung at her retinas. [i]Never again.[/i] She thought. Not that she was never going to drink again, but that she was never going to use whiskey as a mixer for vodka again. She was suddenly jolted awake by violent revolution and she bolted from her room with surprising speed. Not even bothering to put a shirt on, she made for the bathroom and was promptly violently ill into the toilet.
[color=CC0000]"Well good morning to you too, nausea."[/color] She muttered into the toilet bowl. [color=CC0000]"I was wondering when you might show up."[/color]