tagging | @teagansmaron
It wasn’t all that odd to wake up on the couch for Kaya; given that Crusty usually occupied the bulk of her bed, she resigned herself to a fate on the second (or third) hand couch in her apartment. It was old and it’s springs were starting to poke, but if you put enough cushions, you could barely feel them.
Which brought her back to the soft surface that her head was resting on. It didn’t smell or feel like her pillow; it was warm, and as the woman moved, so did the surface. And it groaned, making Kaya almost yelp and leap to her feet, if her body didn’t feel like it weighed a tonne, and her head was feeling three sizes too small. “Jesus Christ, fuck...” Her neck hurt, her back hurt and she was pretty sure she passed out on someone’s lap, and not a pillow. Teagan. Shit, what happened last night? The smell of alcohol permeated the nurse’s nostrils, and pieces began to come together as she sat up slowly.
“Mornin’...” She hoped at least Teagan was having a better time than she was at handling her alcohol. “What did...what did we even drink last night...” A cursory glance around the room would show the lone bottle of Ciroc, drained and rolling on the floor.