[i][b]"--UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"[/b][/i]
	
	Stella snorted heavily, jolted, then burst into a coughing fit. Squinting heavily, as her world was a bright and blurry mess, Stella slowly sat up, groping around at anything and everything she could.

	Cold... cold cold... plastic.. beads? As things finally began to come into focus, two things were immediately obvious to Stella-- this was not her bathroom and that noise was not a bird. What was that anyway? As she scratched her head, foggy memories of the night before attempted to get in. Stella looked at the bathroom mats covering herself, wondered why they were there, then decided to begin the painful process of getting out of the tub. Had those mats been her blankets for the night? As the world swam slightly, Stealla figured she was still tipsy, and definitely concluded the bath mats had been her blankets. Ew? Who knew what sort of gross had been on them and-- good grief she had even managed to pry the fuzzy toilet lid cover off too. 

	As she stared down at the bathroom mats in the tub, Stella scratched her ass, and wondered what time it was. With a glance at the mirror, Stella spotted a small bump on her head, the fact her hair was a killer mess, and shrugged at it-- for now at least. She was in a state, after all, right? This was probably expected. While she normally didn't drink to blackout, there had likely been one last night, at least that's what the evidence pointed to and, oh shit, who's house was this, even? Shaking her head, Stella opened the bathroom door, then walked into the hallway-- ah. From here she could see a kitchen full of people and, yep, this looked to be Par-Para-Parea-- P's place. 

	As Stella walked down the hall toward the kitchen, she realized her pants were missing, then immediately did not care. In silence, without a single word of greeting, Stella pantslessly began scouring the kitchen for some sort of Vodka and a glass, not giving a single shit about who saw her pink lacy underwear or her non-glamorous state. They should be grateful she was still wearing a shirt-- or maybe ungrateful, depending on their state of perversion.

	[color=A9D4F7]"Hair of the dog,"[/color] Stella mumbled, opening cupboards, taking a box of frosted flakes, then promptly shoving her hand in them. No, this didn't stop the search for liquor but, the snack made the search a little more comfortable, so she kept the box with her.