(Spot the unintended Peter Andre reference..)
(And this is a bit vile at the end, I didn't' describe it too much but basically, Ethanol+Natalie's Intestine= and so on)

Natalie slowly awoke, probably at what most would call a Level 1 out of 5 hangover. Feeling buzzed, but in no way like the alcohol was actually in her system, and that if needed, she could bark orders to about 40 Paras in the back of a An-124 and fire her PKP as effectively as ever, if she was back in the VDV. That type was what it reminded her of, the shit Vodka that the Russian Army would sometimes toss the troops to keep morale up, and though it was incredibly weak, every last drop was gone by the time anyone had come into contact with it. None the less, Natalie heard pull himself up and down, Natalie herself still topless as she sat up in bed, just neatening her hair
"Morning Victor. Already at work I see." Natalie said, moving up the bed as she knew he would take definite notice, towards where he held. She lay down on her front, her rear not as pronounced as her breasts, but definitely definitive, looking at Victor as he came up. It felt to Natalie that with Victor, the room was quite small, when in reality, this was a huge master suite for any guest of this hotel. Natalie knew however, nothing less would satisfy them. Only the best.

"If we were back in Miami, I'd probably go for a beach run right now, do 5km then maybe leap straight into some of what you're doing, all without getting dressed of course. But then again, I suppose the police are a little more enforcing of anti-nudist laws over here, and there ARE people up at this time of day over here, right?" Natalie said, in almost a teasing way, aware that even she wasn't that crazy. She didn't entirely care who saw her breasts, just that it was likely she would be turned into a running photoshoot for every dirty Belgian magazine on a long run over here, and that didn't bode well to keep her head down. She was Victor Kantaario's girlfriend, soon to be fiance, and Natalie in some ways liked the idea that she was some sort of mysterious girl, some woman that wasn't really known that well to most. Of course, there was what there was on the surface, but for the moment, Natalie preferred to stay out of the spotlight, knowing full well that this was Victor's show, and that the 7"11 Mohawk was going to the WSM just as determined as he was as Brute, nailing down all hell on enemy.

Natalie clambered out, still naked herself, watching on as she found her bra, somewhere on the floor, bending over in particular as her stomach almost shook the floor with a rumble. Between her breasts, she looked at Victor, the two knowing full well what this was.
"Shit. Fuck, I might glaze the toilet, fuck, fuck..." Natalie said, dropping the bra, as she ran, straight to the ensuite, and locked herself in, with almost a split-second determination. For the next minute or two, what was almost an ungodly noise came from inside, as Natalie realized that her rear end, combined with Alcohol, was always a concequence that she had to remember about. From Victor's point of view, all he could hear was the noise of gas and grunting, with no description needed to flesh out what was going on with Natalie.