(no subject)
Mat staggers downstairs, hissing as the the light and noise of the bar assault his poor, hungover senses. Light, but he'd had too much to drink the night before - or had it been just this morning? He didn't feel up to thinking about it more. Placing a hand up to shield his bleary red eyes, he wends his way to the bar and settles himself unsteadily on a stool.
"Water. Warm, cold, it doesn't matter, so long as there's lots of it. And keep the bloody racket down, would you?" Mat winces as he speaks.
"Water. Warm, cold, it doesn't matter, so long as there's lots of it. And keep the bloody racket down, would you?" Mat winces as he speaks.