[i][color=662d91][b]Lorelei Jones – Jones Residence[/b][/color][/i]

Lorelei awoke on the floor—desperately clutching the end of her comforter—having rolled off the bed. She stood up and massaged her forehead. What she’d gained from relieving her mind to sleep with the bottle, she lost every single subsequent morning. She stood in front of the mirror and folded her arms. Her hair had dissolved into an amorphic, rat-nest-looking mess and she had clearly cradled one of the drinks to sleep, evident from beer stains on her underwear. 

Pursing her lips and running her fingers vigorously through her hair, Lorelei smiled at her reflection. [i]Classy.[/i] If father were still about, he would be disappointed to see that his little girl had disintegrated into an alcoholic blob of satirical (and yet slightly genuine) self-loathing. She then carried a change of clothes to her restroom and bathed before eventually returning to her room with damp hair and serenely clean skin. She tied her hair into a relatively pathetic bun and rubbed her eyes.

At that, Lorelei threw on her overcoat, swung her bag around her shoulder, strapped her rifle onto her back, took a swig of water from her canteen, and bolted downstairs. She slammed her door shut and briskly strolled toward Adam’s place.

Lorelei narrowed her eyes, gave a slight smile in greeting, and nodded her head. “Sorry I’m late. Overslept.” She looked up at the sky. “Good day for traveling. If we don’t run into any hiccups, we’ll make it to Lexington before dark…” Her eyes darted to the road above. She was [i]aching[/i] to hit the road and get the hell out of this town. She could hardly wait any longer.