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Room 302, Sunday Afternoon
Dec. 7th, 2014 02:42 pmAlana had deliberately stayed out too late the night before, quietly but relentlessly ordering drink after drink. She normally didn't like to get drunk -- there was too much puke and too little control involved -- but getting a mass murderering psychopath out of your head was the kind of thing that pushed normal right to the wayside. She needed her brain to stop screaming in horror, and vodka was the fastest way to do that.
She wasn't hung over when she woke up, though the numbness in her brain seemed to be sticking around. She took a long, hot shower, put on an oversized t-shirt and leggings, pulled her hair back into a bun, and then curled up on her bed. She had a magazine open in front of her, but the text kept swimming before her eyes.
It was a relief to have a message to return.
[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]
She wasn't hung over when she woke up, though the numbness in her brain seemed to be sticking around. She took a long, hot shower, put on an oversized t-shirt and leggings, pulled her hair back into a bun, and then curled up on her bed. She had a magazine open in front of her, but the text kept swimming before her eyes.
It was a relief to have a message to return.
[OOC: Cracked door, open post.]
