Managing to quell the urge to throw up, he took stock of the situation. He was still wearing his clothes from last night, so the situation couldn't be too bad. She wasn't freaking out, so that was another good sign.

He felt like he must have tackled a whole bottle of whiskey and more, though. And god damn did his face hurt.

"What-- "

He also had one helluva cotton-mouth. Working his throat, he tried again.

"What time is it?"