”Ugh... whoever invented alcohol is a sadistic bastard.”, Neo muttered softly as she flushed the toilet she had just finished puking the last of her guts up into. She stood back to her feet, feeling around for the bathroom counter; the lights were off due to the severe pounding that was the headache assaulting her temples and forehead at the moment. Once she had a hold of the counter she felt her way over while taking careful baby steps until she was properly standing in front of the sink. She reached forward, remembering that the hot was on the left and the cold on the right and turned on the cold water with a twist of the right knob. She reached her hands beneath the facet and cupped a good bit of water in her hands before bringing it carefully up and splashing it on her face; the coolness helping to ease some of the queasy feeling she was still dealing with. Following this she cupped her hands again and made quick work of rinsing out her mouth before she grabbed her toothbrush and got to scrubbing.
Neo was by no means used to drinking – in fact she had made it no secret she hated all forms of alcohol – however the mission she had gone on had dictated that drinking was in order. She had needed to get some information from a rather stubborn target, and had had to exploit the only weakness the man had: booze. Of course, he hadn't wanted to drink alone, so for every drink she had he would have one as well. Given his tolerance for liquor it had taken quite a bit of drinking on her part to get him toasted enough to start blabbing. In the end she had gotten the information she had needed to complete her report – thankfully she could work just as well intoxicated as she could sober, but the after affects made it seem hardly worth it.
Once she was sure her teeth were clean, and better yet the foul taste was out of her mouth, she rinsed off her toothbrush and then shut off the water. She put her toothbrush away and simply leaned on the counter for a moment with her eyes shut: she was dreading having to open the bathroom door. She had no idea what time it was, nor how bright it happened to be out in the halfway due to the sunlight, and it was not something she wanted to face. Still, she knew she couldn't sit in the bathroom forever. With another sigh she reached over, feeling along the door until she found the handle. She gave it a twist and then pulled, eyes still closed against what she was sure was going to be an assault of sunlight.
Thankfully, the majority of the doors in the hallway were closed, helping to keep it relatively dark. She opened her eyes gingerly and looked to the clock that hung on the wall in the hallway; it was almost eleven o'clock in the morning. She normally was up far before now, but then again she hadn't gotten done with her mission until well past three o'clock in the morning. ”Dad?”, she called out, wincing instantly against the pain that suddenly throbbed through her temples and shot across her entire skull at the noise.
She closed her eyes again, leaning her forehead against the door frame, waiting to hear an answer. She felt horrible, more then horrible really, and she was beginning to wonder if she had perhaps given herself alcohol poisoning: an idea that her brain began to play around with as she waited to hear if her father was in the house or if she were alone.
