(no subject)
The morning (or afternoon) after is never as fun as the night before.
Grace wakes up in her own room, hair covering her face and sheets flung God knows where, and quickly discovers that moving makes her head spin in less pleasant ways than it did last night. She feels wrung out, foggy and desperately in need of a cigarette. Grunting, she rolls to the edge of the bed and blindly fishes along the floor for a pack, knocking over a bottle of Jack in the process.
Must be Tuesday.
An hour and several smokes later, Grace pulls her legs into her chest and laughs up at the ceiling. She remembers, now that her head's cleared a bit. Reliving the details of her affairs isn't something she does, but there's an exception to every rule. And Vlad?
Holy crap, man.
Eventually, she stumbles into the shower; pulls on jeans and a shirt in a series of half-hearted, drunken movements; and drags her feet all the way to the main room of the bar, where she squints and smiles at strangers before flopping on a couch by the fire. Without removing her face from the throw pillow, she barks "Coffee" at a rat and leaves the rest to fate.
[Tiny tag: A Gothic Winter Tale]
Grace wakes up in her own room, hair covering her face and sheets flung God knows where, and quickly discovers that moving makes her head spin in less pleasant ways than it did last night. She feels wrung out, foggy and desperately in need of a cigarette. Grunting, she rolls to the edge of the bed and blindly fishes along the floor for a pack, knocking over a bottle of Jack in the process.
Must be Tuesday.
An hour and several smokes later, Grace pulls her legs into her chest and laughs up at the ceiling. She remembers, now that her head's cleared a bit. Reliving the details of her affairs isn't something she does, but there's an exception to every rule. And Vlad?
Holy crap, man.
Eventually, she stumbles into the shower; pulls on jeans and a shirt in a series of half-hearted, drunken movements; and drags her feet all the way to the main room of the bar, where she squints and smiles at strangers before flopping on a couch by the fire. Without removing her face from the throw pillow, she barks "Coffee" at a rat and leaves the rest to fate.
[Tiny tag: A Gothic Winter Tale]