Who. Tomáš Davydov & Lana Ross What. The aftermath of a night of drinking Where. his apartment When. Thursday morning, January 3rd 2014 Warnings. TBD, but most likely a lot of language
It took him a few minutes to let the world completely back in, but that didn't stop the morning light from peaking through the lone street-level window of his basement apartment or keep the streets above him from rumbling with life. There was a groan - more animalistic in nature than human - and he brought a hand up to his face and clumsily touched bruises that hadn't been there the morning before. Some blurry memories of drinking and laughing quietly resurfaced - although that could've been any night and with just about anyone he embraced so said night - but he knew that Lana had been ever present by his side. And he knew that was why he'd awoken on his couch, soft and comfortable after years of use, staring up at an unfamiliar patch of the ceiling with a hangover that could have only come from a place that lay beyond hell. Oh, that hangover, only a friend that he'd been well acquainted with long before Haymitch had decided to make a grand entrance. Getting up proved to be more of the same - a mistake, as always - but after a few false starts, he managed to walk the short distance to his bedroom and peeked through the door that stood ajar.
He only stared long enough to catch the subtle, rhythmic rising and falling of his sheets that proved she was still breathing. Satisfied, he shut the door with a tenderness that was all his own, only to move towards his iPod dock. The music that came out of the speakers was soft and most likely wouldn't bother Lana at all - if she was even conscious to notice it - and again satisfied that he'd blocked out the silence, he made a beeline for his bathroom where the mirror didn't give him a pretty sight. But his mirror was familiar to such sights, and so was he. He'd never be the fairest in all the land. But maybe, just maybe, Lana could put the pieces together and work out what he was missing from the night before. Another groan escaped before he splashed some water on his face. Morning afters, not nearly as fun as the night before.