*wakes up late the morning after the Virtuosos, having slept deeply through the whole night* *sits up and immediately feels woozy and nauseated* *rubs his head and forces his eyes open*
*looks around his hotel room with a sinking feeling (because he hasn't been responsible for this kind of carnage for months and months)* *swallows thickly and registers the empty mini-bottles of wine and an entirely full litre-bottle of water* *sees his clothes strewn around the room and blinks, startled (and cannot remember the frenzied search for his mobile phone at some point during the previous evening)* *examines a couple of blister-packs of medication and they seem legitimate enough (anti-nausea and anti-emetic) but isn't quite sure how the loose tablets on the bedside table fit in to the picture*
*shakily gets to his feet and feels slightly better after a hot shower* *gets dressed with painstaking slowness and packs his bag* *puts the medicine packets into his bag but sweeps the loose tablets and the bottles of wine into the waste paper bin (it is damage control and he doesn't want to think about it)* *grabs the bottle of water and makes his way out into the living room (and he is already cringing)*