I never experienced a full-blown hangover before.
Or at least not one that left me feeling debilitated and sore all over, but right here, right then—probably the closest I was ever getting to one. And if this is what truly awaits a dude after a long night of asphyxiating one's liver, then consider me as abstained as the holiest, devoutest monk. I've seen the light and all that.
Perhaps a bit too literally…
Speaking of which, I haven't yet outright decided whether what I just snapped awake from was just a bizarre dream courtesy of my even more bizarre reality, or if I should be looking into a good lawyer and get around to writing a will sometime soon because as far as deathly omens go… being reprimanded by the actual manifestation of Death probably takes the cake.
In any case, I needed to tell someone. Irene, maybe. This involves her more than anyone else—her idea, after all.
I snapped out of my thinking, bleary state, fishing around the bedside for my phone. While I was at it, couldn't help but also notice the slight creases of the sheet right next to me, little folds and indents in the beddings making out the vague outline of what was once a resting vampire.
It wasn't a surprise anymore that she went and crept in under my blankets once again, but it was definitely a surprise to find her already gone presumably long before I even woke. Not typically how the morning with her usually goes.
When I found my phone, my lock screen was a cluttered mess of various notifications just waiting for my half-hearted appraisal.
Tyler uploaded a sort of announcement video, vaguely titled about some kind of big change happening, will probably check it out later—that is if I don't forget first. The weather seemed to be also promising a forecast of clear, sunny skies today, which would mark the first time this year. Some sunlight would indeed be nice after months of gray and snow. Then amidst the bloatware pop-ups still trying to reel me in for the hundred-thousandth time, I found a text: the date and time of my next scene to film.
Almost forgot I was even an actor, much less in a starring role.
Finally, last but not least, something I had set up not too long ago, a daily reminder: two more weeks 'till the convention arrives, and Ash finally receives her very, very belated Christmas gift. I swear, those golden tickets from Amanda have been rotting in my wallet for too long a time now.
Once I had flicked and swiped every and all distractions out of the way, I rang up Irene's number, racking my head all the while as the dial tone beeps on as to where the hell I was supposed to start with this whole thing.
"Yes? Good morning," her voice answered on the other end of the line, and I could hear a tinge of hecticness blaring from the speakers. "It's ten. I'm driving here."
"Oh, my bad," bumbled I in response. "Where to?"
"A meeting."
"Important meeting?" I asked.
Already I could hear the surliness in her breath before she even answered, and I'm sure the trumpet-fest I'm hearing in the background wasn't doing anything to help matters.
"Apparently, yes. Very important."
Well, sounds like I picked the perfect time to decide to drop this bombshell on her, didn't I?
I had been talking to her on and off since the night Ria left, and already by day one, she seemed to have bounced back from the whole affair. Taking her usual spot at the cafe, acting her usual self, but that was as far as I could see—in practice, in private—I'm not exactly sure how heavy things are weighing on her mind.
"Was there something you needed?" Irene asked, sounding as polite as she possibly could muster of herself. "Something big enough that couldn't have been explained over a text, I'm hoping."
Let's set the scene here real quick. So we got a grumpy Irene, a presumably last-minute meeting, rush hour at its peak, and I'm about to tell her Death itself didn't like her stroke of ingenuity back then enough to personally seek me out in my slumber.
And given recent happenings, I'd rather not add more to her weight. At least, not yet, not now. Later, definitely. I mean, when you come down to it, all I'd be telling her was that I had a bad dream. Something she could hear about any time… just not right now.
Besides, she wasn't the only person I could discuss this with.
"Nothing… nothing grand like that, I'm terribly sorry to say," I said, weaving up a quick story from the cobwebs in my head. "Just… calling for something stupid, totally nothing."
"What kind of nothing?"
"Erm, magic lessons?" I blurted out. "Still holding you to it, y'know? Semester's already started, but I haven't gone through a single session just yet."
"Right, well, just keep on waiting, then," she said with a sigh. "I haven't decided what we'll be doing yet. Not a priority at the moment."
"What—not a priority?"
"At the moment," she repeated with heavy emphasis. "I have more pressing things on the mind right now. Listen, later, alright? I'll talk to you later."
"Alright, that's fine by me. Sorry for calling."
"Sorry?" She echoed back in confusion. "Calling's not a crime, you know."
"You're busy. You're driving. I budged in—unnecessarily—hence, apology."
"Unnecessary, yes, but not unwelcome. Never unwelcomed," Irene said, speaking as if I'd missed something so very obvious. "You calling, the first good thing that happened to me this morning. Don't apologize for that. And definitely don't let me catch you doing that again… or you really will have something to apologize for."
Okay, now I can't tell if I'm being reassured or reprimanded here. Either way, supposed it's better to do as she says.
"Got it, no more sorries for you," I said at once. "Gonna start calling you all I want now."
"That's better," she said, ending the call with a slight hint and sound of a smile. "Exactly what I wanted to hear."
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