Waking up is a very complicated process.  First, you have to shift around for awhile, trying to decide whether it's worth more to wake up or keep on dreaming.  Once the choice for consciousness has been made (however unwillingly), then you have to go through all that business of the scrunching facial expressions, accelerating heartbeat, higher frequency of breaths per minute, snuggling up to whomever you happen to be sleeping with in a last ditch attempt to fool yourself into thinking that you're not really going to wake up …

Hold it.

Snuggle …?

I crack open an eye cautiously, and check as to the identity of the slightly whimpering form I'm curled against so comfortably.

Whimpering?

Aaaahhhh.  It's Sano.  I look closer.  Correction: it's Sano with the mother of all hangovers.  Seeing as how I myself am suffering from the tender ministrations of what must be the daughter of all hangovers, or at the very least a favored niece, I'm not feeling particularly motivated to make him sit up.

Yes, I know he's awake.  Sano drools in his sleep, and he's not doing any now.

I get up, stretching slightly (which does not make me look like a cat, thank you very much Sano) and begin rummaging around for my clothes.  At least I had enough sense to take most of them off before going to sleep last night – I only brought the one pair, and it would do to wear rumpled clothes when you're a guest.

Speaking of, I wonder what happened last night.  Nothing too bad, obviously – that I would remember – but I don't have much recollection beside a pleasing fuzziness.  I remember Sano falling over, and the look on Himura's face (I want to snicker just thinking about it), and … and … oh, shit.

I remember a certain tall, dark ninja.  Mainly, I remember my reaction to said tall, dark ninja, or, more accurately, said ninja's ass.

God, but I hate being drunk.  It's a good thing no one can read my mind – hope I wasn't too obvious about staring.

It's not really that I'm ashamed to be attracted to the man (after all, I am a nineteen-year-old recluse – it's a lucky day when I'm not attracted to the fishmonger), but this is one of Sano's friends.  Now that I'm sober, I do remember Sano telling me about him – and I also remember Sano telling me about a certain weasel-girl.  She's Sano's friend too, though he might not make much of it.

Peddler's of admittedly questionable foodstuffs are one thing, friends of Sano are something totally different.  Friends of Sano are completely off-limits, no questions asked or answered.

Unless, of course, said friends make the first move.

Stupid.  I snort, and Sano whimpers a little more piteously.  Yes, that would happen, Himura would shave his head bald and completely forsake laundry (yes, I know about that too – it's handy, sometimes, being friends with one of the most talkative drunks in Tokyo), and look at those pigs over there – aren't they flying so nicely?

I shake my head, spare one last, pitying thought for Sano (I always did hold my sake better than him), and walk out of the room, using commendable force of will not to dive back in under the blankets and go right back to sleep.

Wakey-wakey, Katsy-chan.  Time to greet the morning.

Good fucking morning.

**************

Urgh.  Don't wanna write.  Wanna play FF8.  Zell hot.  Seifer and Zell fucking like bunnies hotter.  All girls in that game fucking annoying.  Except Quistis.  Quisty rocks.  And Squall's a jackass.  But he's a hot jackass, and, more importantly, we see the game from his POV, so he's like our jackass.

I wonder what would happen if someone re-did FF8 from Seifer's POV?  I'd buy it.  God, is anyone actually reading this?

No.  No they are not.

So why are you writing it, you fucking idiot?

You just answered your own question, bitch.

Why, yes.  Yes I did.

Damnit, but you're annoying.

Shut up.

Fuck you.

Make me.

*slaps self silly several times*

Wow.  I feel … so not better at all.  Alright, that's it.  Writing: no; Playstation: yes.

Goodbye.