"If you don't have my cake you can fuck off," called Natalie, clearly still morose, the tone in her voice flat and smokey, like she'd spent a good deal of her time smoking filterless marlboros and drinking straight whiskey. At least half of that was true. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them under the blankets, sighing heavily. She didn't want to go back home - home was boring, same shit every day stuff, but here, everything used to be awesome, and now it wasn't. It made Natalie exceedingly confused.