Frost and Stories: part 28

    My head was pounding, I had no idea where I was, and I couldn't remember anything.  What.  The hell.  Was going on.  Thus far, upon my waking, my eyes had been squeezed shut.  That's because any movement, even one so small as to twitch my eyelids open, sent a shooting pain through my head.  My god, I'd never had a headache this bad in my life!  I groaned a little and risked a sliver of sight with one eye.  Bad idea! Bad idea!  The second I'd opened my eye, I'd been blinded by light.  I immediately slapped my hand over my eyes and again groaned.  Hitting my forehead really hadn't helped my massive headache.  Not at all.

    With my eyes closed I tried to figure out where I was.  It sort of smelled familiar, and what I could hear sounded familiar too.  It was hard to focus with my head pounding the way it was, but I didn't think I was anywhere dangerous.  I knew from the sounds that I wasn't at my place or in a big city.  That's one question down.  Time for the next one.  How the hell had I gotten here?  More importantly, what the hell had happened?  The last thing I remembered was being at Legends.  I remembered watching a black-haired woman sing Halestorm.  That was Shiba.  Gaia told you.  Oh yeah.  So, what happened after that?  I attempted to concentrate, but my head hurt way too much to be of any use just then. 

    Alright, so I was at Legends... where am I now?  I took my hand off my eyes and set it so it would be shading them from any overhead light.  Then I slowly cracked the right one open the slightest bit.  It was still bright, but by looking through my eyelashes, I managed to make out that I was in some sort of a bedroom.  And not mine, for that matter, even though I sort of knew that already.  I put my hand back where it had been and tried once again to figure out what had happened. 

    Before I could muster up some sort of answer, I heard footsteps below me.  Well, that means I'm upstairs somewhere.  Then I heard them on the stairs.  They were loud.  I groaned again and reached for something to pull over my head, hoping that I could drown out the noise.  My hand closed on what I assumed was a blanket and I tugged it over my head, careful not to move my actual cranium too much.  Then there was a knock on the door.

    I didn't answer, not enough motivation too in any case.  Whoever it was came into the room and closed the door behind them.  A minute later, I heard some swooshing sounds and the room became exponentially darker.  Yay.  I dared to pull the blanket off of my face and squint again.  I stared at the intruder in confusion.  He smirked at me, leaning against the wall.  "About time you woke up."

    "Sam?"  Talking hurt.  Just that one word made my head pound again, and I groaned once more. 

    Sam chuckled lightly.  "Wow, I really didn't expect you to be this bad.  Even Mors has an easier morning than this."  He moved closer and sat in the chair that was the only other piece of furniture in the room, except for a chest of drawers.  "How you holding up?"

    "Where am I?"  I was laying on my back when I woke up.  I gingerly turned onto my side, knowing from years as a mortal that I always felt better that way.  Once I'd settled, I did feel a little better.  Marginally, but still, better. 

    "My spare room.  I'd have taken you to your place but I can't teleport other people and you definitely couldn't fly."

    "What happened?"  It came out more like a moan, but I really didn't feel like repeating myself just then. 

    "Well, from what I gathered...  You got drunk off your ass in order to teach Sunny a lesson.  It's a good thing I showed up when I did or you might have been stuck there."

    "I did... what?"  I started to shake my head but I soon realized that was a very bad idea and stopped.  "No, that's not... possible.  I don't drink.  Alcohol.  I don't... drink alcohol."  Talking still hurt, and I could barely keep my mind on what I was saying with how hard my head was pounding.  On top of that, my words either came out as moans, groans, or as a jumbled mess.

    Sam chuckled again.  "Really?  Because when I found you, you smelled like you took a bath in a keg and you are currently slurring your words."

    "I'm not...  I'm talking in... cursive."  I giggled a tiny bit at my joke.  I'd always wanted to use that line but I'd never had the chance.  But, Sam was right, I was slurring my words.  And giggling hadn't been a smart idea, because that made my head hurt too.

    "Yep, you're definitely waking up some."  He stood up, and the noise that the chair made as it slid back a little did not feel good to my aching head.  I grimaced, moaning.  "Sorry.  I'll make you the hangover cure that Mors uses.  Be back in a minute."

    "I'm not hung... over."  My protest was as weak as my body. 

    "Yeah, sure.  Just sit tight until I get back."  He left the room and closed the door behind him.  A moment later, I heard his footsteps on the stairs again and I clamped my hands over my ears.  No way.  No way was I hung-over.  I don't drink, so there was no chance. 

    A figment of a memory drifted across my mind of the song 'I'm Shipping Up to Boston' playing and me standing on a table.  No, that can't be right.  It wasn't possible.  Why would I drink?  And if I had... what the hell had I had to drink?  I picked at my shirt and pulled the hem close to my face.  I took a sniff and almost puked.  Oh my god that's disgusting.  It smelled like a bar floor that hadn't been cleaned in years.  Okay... maybe Sam was right.

    I spent the next five or so minutes trying to remember the previous night, to no avail.  The only memory I could recall was of me singing on stage and my run in with Aphrodite.  Anything after that?  Nope, nada, zilch.  When Sam came back with a cup of something that neither smelled, nor looked, appetizing, I'd pretty much come to terms with the fact that I had, indeed, gotten drunk.  Also that, of course, I'd gottten the hangover from hell for having done it. 

    "How bad was it?"  Sam handed me the cup and I took it, reluctantly.

    He looked at me confused.  "What do you mean?"

    "On a scale of you to Mors.  How bad was it?"  I sniffed at the drink and wrinkled my nose in disgust.  There was no way I was drinking this.

    "Oh.  Well, if that's the scale we're using...  I'd say - from what I saw - way past Sunny and giving Mors a run for his money."  I groaned again, this time, it wasn't from my headache.  "Drink it."

    "What is it?"  I eyed the greenish brown glop.  "Polyjuice potion?"

    Sam laughed at my joke.  "No, but the ingredients aren't too far off."  I grimaced again.  I knew I was probably acting like the little kid that doesn't want to take their medicine, but I wasn't in the mood to care.  "Drink.  It."

    I swallowed once, staring at the glop.  I really don't wanna do this.  My head took another shooting pain and I brought my free hand to it, groaning again.  Screw it, I'm done with this headache.  I held my breathe and started chugging the goop.  I got most of the way through it before having to take a breathe.  When I did, I finally tasted the complete nastiness of the slop.  I almost choked.  "Oh my god, that's so gross!"  I grimaced at what was left in the bottom of the cup, held my breath again, and downed the last bit.  After swallowing the last of it, I shuddered, trying to suppress my gag reflex.  That was a feat in and of itself.  "Are you trying to poison me?"

    "No, actually, I'm trying to un-poison you.  And by the way,"  He took the cup from me and replaced it with another.  "That was only cup number one.  And there's one more coming after this so either get it over with or deal with it."

    I grimaced down at the slightly different colored glop.  "You're sure this shit works?"  I sniffed at it and, to my relief, it smelled slightly better than cup one.  Not quite better really, but sort of fruity. 

    "Mors swears by it, and you know how hard he parties."  Sam was watching me with a slight smirk. 

    I eyed him sideways.  My head was still aching, but it did feel a teensy bit better, but it had after I'd woken a bit up anyway.  Maybe this stuff does work.  I downed the second cup and shuddered once again.  "Eugh, what's in this anyway?"

    "Believe me, you don't want to know."  He took the second cup from me and held out another.  "Last one, I promise."

    I took it from him, determined to crush this headache.  "So, have you ever had to use this miracle cure?"  I started to chug this one, but it actually tasted okay, so I allowed myself to drink it slower.

    "Not on myself, no.  A few times on Jack, and once on Mors when he was so plastered that Shady couldn't get him to her place.  That's actually when I learned it."  He watched me drink the last of it, a mix of concern and laughter on his face.  "I'll get you some water to wash it down if you want."

    "No, I think I'm good."  The last cup hadn't induced my gag reflex at all, so that was a plus.  However, without warning, I let out a huge burp. 

    Sam started laughing.  "That happens after the third one.  Mors get's the hiccups, Jack burps." 

    I started to chuckle, but my head was still hurting, so I stopped and put my hand back to my head again.  I groaned again.  "Don't make me laugh, my head still hurts."

    "Well, that's what you get for being as drunk as you were.  Why'd you even do that, anyway?"

    "Do what?"  This was not good.  What had I done while drunk?  If that tabletop dance was any indication, I was a worse drunk that I ever guessed at. 

    "Why'd you get drunk?"

    "Oh."  Well, now that I was done denying it, why had I gotten drunk?  I tried once again to remember anything after my song, and I got no further than walking through the crowd.  "Don't remember."

    "You will in a little bit, that's what the second round does.  The first one wakes you up and the last kills the hangover."  He shrugged.  "You don't really need the second one, but I figured you'd rather know what went down than be in ignorant bliss."

    "Whoever said ignorance is bliss only ever was ignorant because it's not.  Ignorance sucks.  So do hangovers for that matter."  I winced as my head decided to remind me that I was, indeed, hung-over.  "Sooo... how long until that last one kicks in?"  Sam laughed.  "Don't laugh at me!"

    "Sorry, uh an hour or two.  You're probably gonna feel better soon, and you won't be a hundred percent for about four or five hours, but about two or three hours from now the headache should be just a nagging thing at the back of your mind.  In the mean time..."  He looked over me, half slumped over on the bed.  "You might wanna try and clean up a little, you still smell like a bar floor."

    "Geez, aren't you a Casanova?"  He was right, but I'd never admit it out loud.  Especially not now as I was still in a shitty mood.  "You know, telling a girl she smells, isn't gonna get you any brownie points."

    "But you forget that I know you.  And I'm pretty sure you've come to the same conclusion, from the way you are keeping your face away from your clothes and hair."

    I shot him a stink-eye.  "Oh shut up with the 'I told you so's will ya?  I'm not in the mood."

    Sam chuckled yet again as he rose from his seat.  "Well, seeing as you're all set, I'll be downstairs in my workshop.  Whenever you feel up to it you're free to come downstairs."

    "I know my rights!"  I glanced around the room, realizing something.  "Hey, you didn't happen to grab my bag when you rescued me by any chance, did you?"

    "Oh, yeah."  He bent down and picked up said bag from the floor.  "Here, though I can't say anything about the state of your things.  I think something might have spilled in here -"

    He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence because I'd snatched my bag out of his hands, all thoughts of my headache gone momentarily.  At the mention of the possibility that my shit might not be in one piece, I'd freaked out.  Not only were my spare clothes in there, but so was my most recent sketchbook and art supplies, as well as a notebook with parts of one of my stories.  As soon as I opened the bag and the smell hit me, I knew that I was in for the worst.  My bag, much like my clothes smelled like it had fallen into a barrel of beer.  "No."  I pulled out the clothes I'd had in there, which were damp and smelling strongly of alcohol.  Those weren't my main priority just then, though.  

    I threw the soggy clothes onto the floor, having enough sense to keep them off the bedding.  I glanced fearfully into the bottom of my bag and started pulling out the books.  Both were soaked and smelling, and I wasn't even sure with what.  I was crestfallen.  I carefully opened the sketchbook and started flipping through the pages, my heart breaking as I realized that a good half of the drawings were ruined.  The notebook wasn't much better off, the ink had smeared and bled, only the parts written in pencil having survived. 

    "I'm sorry, Story.  It was like that when I found it."  He sounded sorry.  Unlike when he'd been laughing at my being hung-over, he was completely sincere.  Maybe it was the look on my face or the fact that he knew that this stuff meant a lot to me, either way, he meant it.

    "No, no it's..."  I sighed.  "Okay.  I mean, I remember most of the story, and it's not like it's the first time I've had to rewrite something, so..."  I shrugged, eyeing my sketchbook remorsefully.  "At least some of the drawings survived, and it wasn't a full one - or one of the one got from North."  God, if it had been one of the sketchbooks I'd received from North I'd probably be crying.  The quality of those books, along with the time and thought that he'd so obviously put into them, made them prizes.  If either of them had been harmed in any way, I might just have lost it.  I sighed again.  "I'll get over it, I mean, there's not much I can do about it now."  I glanced at the sodden pile of fabric on the floor.  "Now I have to worry about what the hell I'm gonna wear, because I'm sure as hell not leaving this smelly crap on."  I plucked at the shirt I was wearing, cringing as the smell wafted up at me. 

    "You can borrow some of mine."

    I raised an eyebrow at Sam.  "You have spare clothing.  That isn't a costume?"  The only clothes I'd ever seen Sam wear were the ones currently on his body.  Gray pants, black boots, white t-shirt, and brown vest.  Anything else was a costume that he wore once or twice and that's it. 

    "Well, not pants, no, but I have a pretty good collection of band shirts."  He shrugged.  "I might have a pair of pants in my costume collection that you could wear, though."

    I raised an eyebrow yet again.  "You're being awfully nonchalant about this."

    He turned away and started for the door.  "I think we'd both be more comfortable if you were wearing clothes that didn't smell like the storeroom of Legends."  He pulled the door open and shot his last sentence through the crack before he closed it behind him.  "I'll try and find you something."  I watched him leave, noting that, as he turned away, there'd been a faint pink color to his face.

    I smiled to myself.  Not a lot because, well, I still felt like I'd been run over by a steamroller.  It's a good thing Sam isn't like a lot of guys out there.  Then again, that was because Sam had over three hundred years to grow up and mature, unlike most who were still children when they were old and gray.  I took another look at my damp things and sighed again.  What am I gonna do?  I almost wanted to cry when I thought of the hours of work that had been erased with one spilled drink.  Actually, when I thought about it - or smelled it - it was probably more than one drink that had spilled.  I ran a hand through my hair and stared at the two books which I'd left open.  "Guess I could try and salvage them."  I sighed again and decided that now wasn't the time to worry about it.  Or rather, not the place to worry about it.

    I gathered up my things, as well as my bag.  Slowly, and not quite steadily, I pulled myself off the bed.  The moment I was standing, I almost wasn't.  I nearly toppled over from the sudden onslaught of dizziness.  And of course, my flailing and frantic grab at the bed happened to jerk my skull around just enough to send another shooting pain through it.  Of fucking course.  

    After leaning against the wall for a minute or two I felt steady enough to attempt to walk.  Now, I can't say I walked in a straight line, but I did manage to make it to the top of the stairs without falling over.  I then collapsed to the floor and proceeded to butt-scoot down the steps.  There was no way I would make it down the stairs in one piece any other way.  It took a good five minutes but I finally made it to Sam's living room with no further harm to my aching head.  Seriously, the last time stairs had been this much of an ordeal, I'd still been mortal and my blood sugar had been completely out of whack.  I think it'd been 28 or something at the time.  For those of you who don't know, that's very bad.  Normal for someone my age - at the time - was 120, with 70 being considered low.  So for it to have been 28, yeah it was a surprise I was still conscious and aware. 

    But I hadn't had to worry about my blood sugar in over twenty years.  Nope, apparently, all I had to worry about now, was hangovers.  Fuck.  My.  Life.  I ended up sitting on the bottom step for a minute or two before mustering the strength to crawl to the bathroom.  I dumped my things on the floor and staggered into the hallway.  I headed for Sam's workshop, but upon entering and not seeing him anywhere, I figured that he must be in the costume tomb.  I eyed the hallway, knowing full well that I was too lazy and too worn out to make it all the way over there.  "Sam!" 

    "Yeah?"  A moment after his reply, his head appeared out of the last doorway on the left.  "Hey, you made it down the stairs without killing yourself.  Congrats."

    "Ha ha, you're so funny.  Have you found me a change of clothes yet?"

    "Attitude.  That's no way to ask a friend to do something nice for you out of the kindness of his heart, now is it?"  I glared at him as my response.  "Still working on it.  You gonna attempt a shower?"

    "Well, I'm not taking a bath."  I plopped to the floor, deciding that sitting was better.  "You don't have a washer and dryer do you."

    "Not the automatic kind.  I hand-wash all my things, always have.  Why?"

    I frowned in a slightly exaggerated way.  "But electronics are so much easier."

    "That's what you get for growing up in the technological age."  He grinned at me jokingly and dove back into the closet.

    Under my breath, I mumbled, "Yeah, well you grew up in the dark ages." 

    "I heard that."  I winced.  Sam didn't reappear, but I heard him fine.  "And I did not grow up in the dark ages, I grew up in the age of enlightenment, actually."

    "Tail end.  I know my history, the age of enlightenment didn't start until you were probably in your teens."

    "Smart ass."  I heard him laughing and I smiled.  Sam didn't cuss all that often, but you can't call someone a smart ass in a PG way. 

    He didn't say anything else, and the clothes I was wearing were really getting uncomfortable to be in.  Plus my hair hadn't been this gross since I was mortal and I'd skipped one too many showers.  I hoisted myself off of the floor and into the bathroom.  "I'm taking a shower now.  Fair warning, you probably wont have any hot water for a few hours... or days."  Sam snorted, but didn't say anything. 

    I shut the door behind me.  I went over and turned the water on so it would be at least warm by the time I stepped in, then I glanced in the mirror.  "Yeesh!"  I looked like Samara what's-her-face from The Ring... but worse.  There were dark circles under my eyes - which really wasn't saying anything because underneath my eyes was usually dark anyway, but still - plus my eyes themselves were red rimmed.  My hair was one giant matted, knotted mess that looked like something a cat would hack up.  The makeup I'd applied in an attempt to hide the bruises on my face had smeared and partially worn off, so my skin looked like a streaky nightmare.  And to top it off, my face had a nice yellow undertone from the bruises finally starting to fade away... so yes, I looked exactly how my head felt.  

    Good god... I tell you, it's a good thing that Sam knows how to keep quiet about things or else I'd never live this down.  Actually, come to think of it, I probably wouldn't live it down anyway if I knew any of my peers at all.  And I did, I definitely did.  I eyed my reflection again and grimaced.  "Yeah, time to fix this."  I peeled off the clothes I'd been wearing and tossed them onto the same pile as the ones that had been in my bag.  And when I say peeled, I actually mean peeled.  They were actually stuck to my skin in some areas.  Geez, who knew alcohol was so sticky?  Actually, that could be fruit juice, that's in some drinks, right?  Oh yeah.  Sometimes, inner voice could be a real smartass.

    I stepped into the shower and, even though the noise really didn't help my headache, the water itself felt really good.  A few minutes after stepping in, I heard music.  Sam must have turned his radio on.  He had a CD player/radio that he kept attuned to the local rock stations.  Well, those, and one news station so he could keep a track of anything relevant.  I was just happy he stuck to music today, because no way did I want to listen to a newscaster while I had the hangover from hell.  Speaking of the land down underground, Highway to Hell began playing and I grinned. 

    Now, Sam was as tone-def as they come, but everyone sings in the confines of their own home.  Sam did so now along with ACDC.  I giggled a little.  Time to show him how it's done.  "I'm on the highway to hell!  Highway to hell!  I'm on the highway to hell!  No stop signs, speed limits, nobody's gonna slow me down!"  I wasn't singing as loud as I normally would have, but that was because if I had sung at my normal volume, I'd have killed my head what with the state it was currently in.  I could almost see Sam rolling his eyes at me.  For that matter, I could almost see Jack doing the same thing, if he'd been there. 

    A minute later I heard Sam knock on the door.  "Hey, I found something that'll work for pants, plus a shirt for you.  I'm gonna leave them outside the door."

    "Thanks."

    "And stop stealing my thunder." 

    I couldn't help laughing.  I'd definitely called it.  "When you learn how to sing then maybe I will." 

    "Oh, will you shut up?  Remember that I'm the one who's not only letting you hole up here after your wild night out, but I'm also letting you borrow my shower, my clothes, and my spare room."

    "Did I say thank you yet?"

    He didn't say anything for a second, but when he spoke I could hear the smile in his voice.  "You just did."  I heard him walk away and that was that. 

    I knew a good portion of the songs that played during my shower and those that I knew, I sang as loud as my headache would allow.  I count it a success that I didn't fall over while I was showering.  I was in there for I don't know how long, but it was at least an hour, I did know that.  By the time I climbed out, the mirror was fogged over and so was just about every other reflective surface.  I went to the mirror and ran my hand across it to get some of the condensation off.  What I could see of my reflection was a good sign. 

    "Well, looks like I'm more or less human now."  My face was still half yellow from the bruise, but everything else had been washed away with the hot water.  Even the dark circles were gone.  Well, my skin always had bounced back quick... and dried quickly.  For everything except injuries, my body never showed it's ailments for long.  There were probably still tangles in my hair, but it was nothing a brush couldn't fix.  And my headache was way less intense by now.  Sam was right, this hangover cure does work fast. 

    I wrapped a towel around my hair and another around myself.  I opened the door long enough to grab up the clothes that Sam had set outside of it.  I dried myself off and pulled on the pants - which were made of some gray material that was actually really comfy and soft.  I had to roll them a few times though, Sam wasn't really my height and all.  I had to laugh when I saw the band that the shirt belonged to, simply because of the only one of their songs that I knew.  

    I picked up the pile of dirty clothes I'd left on the tiled floor only to see a dirty - and sticky - spot that they left.  I used the towel that I'd dried myself with to clean it and added the towel to the pile.  I wasn't going to make Sam clean up my messes, I was a big girl and I wasn't an invalid anymore so I could at least fend for myself.  I left the towel in my hair as I stepped out of the bathroom amidst a cloud of steam.  Goose bumps appeared on my arms as I was hit with the colder air of the rest of the house.

    I shivered a little and glanced around, trying to gage where Sam was.  Music was still coming from his workroom, maybe he was there.  I peeked in and saw him at work on his costume.  He was going as one of the Ninja Turtles, tough I didn't know which one.  He hadn't made the weapons yet and there was no mask in sight, so I was as in the dark as the kids currently.  Secretly, I hoped for Mikey... my favorite.  Or Raph, because he's my second favorite.  However, knowing Sam, he'd probably be going as Leo, because he was the role model type of the group.  In my personal opinion, Leo is too perfect... which makes him annoying in my eyes.

    "Thanks for the clothes." 

    He looked up upon hearing my voice.  "Hey, look, you're human again."

    "Hilarious.  Nice choice in band shirt, though."  I plucked at the Eve to Adam shirt I was now wearing.

    He grinned slyly at me.  "Hey, 'I am Immortal'."

    "Yes we are."  Both of us were laughing.  I tell you, it felt so much better to be able to laugh without the hangover from hell roaring at me for doing so.

    "Well, you seem better."  Sam said when he finally stopped laughing.  He went back to work of his costume, specifically, the shell.

    "I feel better."  I took the spare seat in the workroom, the one that wasn't covered in bits of fabric and foam.  "That stuff's amazing.  What's in it?"

    "I told you, you don't want to know."  I stared at him, not accepting that as an answer.  "Trust me, knowing what's in it is enough to make me think twice before I start drinking."

    I paused.  It was that gross?  "Well... what was in the third one?  That one didn't taste too bad."

    "Well, yeah, that one's got chocolate and oranges in it, among other, more unspeakable, things."  He grimaced a little and went back to working on the shell.  

    After a minute I was done guessing.  "Which one are you going as anyway?"  He shot me a confused glance and I nodded at the shell.

    "Oh, Leonardo."  I snorted.  "What?" 

    I shook my head.  "I figured you were going as him."  Sam rolled his eyes but didn't say anything further.  I sat and watched him work on the shell for a while after that.  Slowly, the memories of Friday night came back to me.  

    After the first drink, when I started to forget everything, I had the thought that I should try one of everything.  I almost succeeded in that endeavor, I'm ashamed to say.  Sunny drank right along with me, I'm also ashamed to say.  Most of the night he basically kept up a steady stream of 'I told you so's whenever either of us got another drink easily. 

    Not too long after drink number six - I think it was number six - I started going crazy.  By crazy I mean dancing on tables - and the stage and the bar top- getting far louder than I usually was, and basically making a fool of myself.  However, one good thing about all of it was that when I got back on stage to sing a few times, I wasn't any worse than usual, just more clumsy.  A lot more clumsy.

    Another good thing was that the experience proved that I had good friends.  And I don't just mean Sam for rescuing me.  I mean Gaia and Mors and Shady and everyone else.  They tried to keep drinks from me too, until I told them what I was doing and told them to stop and to let me do it.  They tried to keep others from judging me for it too.  As well as trying to keep me from making too big of a fool of myself.  I really had to thank them when I saw them the next time.

    But yeah, all in all, Sam hadn't been far off when he'd described my behavior as giving Mors a run for his/her money.  I'm also ashamed to say that, when Sam showed up, I was indeed making a fool of myself.  I was up on stage, singing, and Gaia and Mors intercepted him to attempt to tell him what was going on.  The second I was off the stage he had a hold of me and was hauling me out the doors.  He kept up a steady stream of 'what the hell are you thinking' and 'I thought you had more sense than this' as he karted me to the nearest bus heading towards Salem. 

    During the ride was when I finally passed out - the first time.  I woke up again while he was carrying me down his street.  He had me slung over his shoulder and had ceased in his berating of me.  It was probably about four in the morning by then, so no one was outside to see us.  I started babbling again as he carried me up to his spare room and threw me onto the bed.  He tossed my bag down to the floor and locked the door behind him when he left the room.  Not long after that I passed out for the second time.

    I grimaced at how unruly I had been and at how much crap my friends had put up with.  Sam noticed the grimace.  "What's the matter?"

    "Huh?"  I hadn't realized that I'd been making a face.  "Oh.  Uh... I remember last night."

    "You mean Friday night.  It's Sunday."

    "Whatever, I remember how much of an ass I was.  Sorry, by the way."  I grimaced again, thinking back on it.  Had I lost all semblance of self control or something?

    "Ah, don't worry about it.  No one's themselves when they're drunk."  He waved it off, literally.  "So, did you manage to 'teach Sunny a lesson' like you were trying to?"

    "I'll know when I talk to him."

    "What were you trying to do anyway?  Gaia and Mors were pretty vague about the whole thing."

    I shook my head.  "Sunny made some comment that I couldn't say anything about him being drunk when I'd never had the experience myself, so I decided to remedy that."

    Sam paused in his work and turned to me with a hard to read expression.  After opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally found whatever words he wanted to use.  "Was it worth it?"

    I hesitated. Was it worth it?  I'd made an idiot of myself, gotten the hangover from hell, basically told Sunny that he was right... and I still didn't know if Sunny would listen to me now or even what his reason behind never saying no was.  "I don't know.  But it's done with now."

    He rolled his eyes and turned back to his costume.  "You and Sunny are too much alike.  He doesn't believe in no, you don't believe in regret." 

    "Well, I can't change anything so I might as well be happy with it, or proud even.  Why regret the past?"  It's always been my philosophy that regret solves nothing.  Besides, everything I've ever done was, at some point, exactly what I wanted, so there's no reason to regret it.  If you regret doing what you wanted, then you'll regret your entire life.  I may as well look back with fondness.  Most of the time anyway.

    Sam didn't say anything for a minute, and I thought he was done.  Besides, my question had been rhetorical.  But, without looking up, he answered anyway.  "Some of us aren't quite as proud of our past decisions or actions as you are."  He didn't say anything after that, but the way he said it made me think he was talking about himself.  Part of me wanted to ask him what he meant, try and get him to talk about it, but knowing him, this was probably one of those off-limits topics.  He may have brought it up, but he wouldn't be telling me everything.  Not that day anyway.

    So I let it rest.  Might as well change the subject.  After a minute I stood up, shifting the strongly smelling bundle in my arms.  "Alright, then.  I'll be back in a while."

    "Where are you going?"

    "To find a Laundromat that's open and add my clothes to someone's wash."  I stepped out into the hallway as I spoke.

    Before I was out of eyesight, Sam rolled his eyes and snorted.  "Have fun."  He shouted it at me from where he sat, as I was already in the living room.

    "Likewise."  I shouted it over my shoulder as I stepped outside into the afternoon light.