See, this is why he doesn't drink and smoke and take whatever the fuck pills those were at the same time. Because then you wake up in the middle of fuckever-knows-where on some shitty, suspiciously stained couch with no idea how you got there and nothing to ease the stabbing goddamn pain in your pounding goddamn forehead.

He doesn't think he's ever seen this place in his life. It's nowhere he recognizes, anyway. Aside from the couch, it doesn't look half-bad. Shit, there's a pristine-looking couch across the room. What the fuck'd he gone and fallen asleep on this piece of fucking garbage for?

Yeah, well, that's just his luck sometimes. And all the more reason he shouldn't drink and smoke etc. etc. etc. you get the goddamn idea.

He's about to close his eyes again when he realizes he's not alone. Someone's nearby, watching him or staring at not much of anything or who the fuck knows what. Okay, so who the fuck's this chick supposed to be?

"You just gonna fucking stand there, staring at me? Do I look like a picture or some goddamn thing?"