When Beth peeled her eyes open, she already knew they would sting from the night before; or rather, earlier that morning – it seemed as though she hadn't gone to bed until after sunrise. It would also seem that almost her entire memory of the night was her clinging to the toilet bowl. Although, there were bits and pieces of her spinning around the bar, still floating around in her mind.
Her head had happily buzzed the night before, causing her to really giggle and really smile, for the first time in the long time. Beth wished that feeling could have remained, but she knew it would be little to no luck, to still have the buzz. Although, she did not expect the pounding of her brain against her skull to replace it.
"Ugh" Beth groaned, as she propped herself onto her elbows. For a moment, she almost expected to be in her own room, but her surroundings were entirely different.
She was in the spare room of Daryl's home, where she would remain in for the next week. It matched the rest of the house in tidiness (meaning it was anything but). With boxes and knickknacks spread across the entirety, it looked more like a glorified store room than an actual bedroom. Her cleaning duties would almost definitely begin in there.
That is, when she could get herself off of the damn bed.
The bed was the only well-kept item in the room. Beth had flung herself down on it, not bothering to remove the covers, too exhausted from the night's events. Therefore, everything remained neatly tucked, and the wrinkles present were the ones she produced on the top quilt. She guessed the bed wasn't used much, and she would have liked nothing more to crawl under the covers and put it to good use.
Five more minutes. That was what she wanted to give herself. But she knew five would turn into fifty if she wasn't careful, and then she'd waste the whole day away. So, Beth finally rose from the bed and as she did, she noticed the crudely hung mirror, above a stout dresser; which apparently was the motivation she needed, because her vanity outweighed her exhaustion.
She had to see the damage done.
She prayed it wasn't as bad as she thought, as she dragged herself off the bed. As she walked to the mirror, she felt her finger tips tug at the hem of something, and realized she was still wearing Annabelle's dress; another thing she hadn't bothered to remove. The first thing she noticed in the mirror was that it was wrinkled beyond belief. Although, that wasn't the worst of it. Her face and eyes were puffy and her hair was in tangled bun on the top of her head; a ploy to avoid vomit catching in it, or strands dipping into the toilet water.
The one thing she was thankful for, was her decision against letting the girls plaster her with makeup. She could only imagine what she would have woken up to then. But it would have been something a lot more horrendous, that was for sure.
Was that all it was then – drinking and drunkenness? The bubbling laughter and dancing, followed by a morning far less favourable. She could understand the appeal, now that she'd experienced it. However, in excess, she was not a fan. Beth knew she could certainly do without the hangover and puke; and the slight loss of memory.
Along with almost everything else, Beth would admit, she couldn't remember how she even got back. Was Daryl home? She didn't know if he had seen in in her state last night or not. If he had, she didn't want him reliving it. Quickly, Beth went about the room, trying to find her luggage. When she was finally able to locate it she changed out of the dress and slipped into something a little more comfortable. Meaning, her least embarrassing pair of pyjamas.
She was still a mess; but, at least, she was a little less of a hot one.
Better now than never. Beth opened her door and stepped out into a very bright living room. "Ugh." She repeated, shading her eyes with her hands.
"Rough morning?" a voice asked, followed a sort of snort.
Beth turned to see Daryl sitting at a…dining table? Well, at least that was the best way to describe it, it was absolutely covered in papers, binders and what looked to be maps. There wasn't room for a single dish, although that didn't stop him from setting a mug of coffee on an open map; which left a ring as she lifted it to his lips.
"Maybe." Beth replied.
"Well, there's still coffee." Daryl gestured towards the pot, sitting on the counter with a mug beside it. "No cream or sugar though."
Beth tried not to grimace as she poured the coffee and sipped it. Her mother had always said she had more sugar than actual coffee in her cup, and she'd be right. However, her head still appreciated the caffeine, no matter how bitter it was.
"Thanks." Beth said, leaning herself against the counter. "How's your head?"
Daryl snorted again. "I've been doing this too long to be hungover."
"Good to know." Beth mumbled, wondering how long it took him to build up a tolerance.
"Everyone has their night though." Daryl shrugged.
"Was I that bad?" Beth asked, her free hand reaching for her hair, forgetting it was all out of her reach. She couldn't think there was anything worse than her vomiting in the only bathroom.
"You had a moment." Daryl stood up and began walking towards her; or rather the coffee pot. Beth hardly noticed him reach around her as ran through every possible thing she could have done or said in her head. "No big deal."
And that was when, as she looked up at him, standing so close to her, that she had a momentary flashback. It was just a snippet of a lost memory…of her talking to Daryl in the kitchen. Beth held her breath, and could feel her face redden. Had she said what she thought she said? Those were things she could hardly say to herself, let alone a stranger.
"Is that why you're being so nice to me?" Beth could feel her voice shaking.
"You're not going to cry again are you?" Daryl asked, looking slightly frightened.
Damnit. No she was not going to cry, again. She was over crying over every little detail. Healing…or whatever, that was what the trip was supposed to be about; even if it wasn't going exactly as planned. So what if Daryl knew? Who was he going to tell and who was ever going to see her again after that week? At least, for once, she was able to get it all out.
Beth shook her head and shallowed. "Like you said…no big deal."
"Right." Daryl backed away, and retreated to the table.
Beth waited a moment before taking a few steps after him. "What are you mapping out?"
She was looking for any change in pace — change in conversation — and he seemed fairly interested in whatever was on the maps; it seemed a good piece if any. She thought, perhaps, it may at least be something a little more interesting than her patheticness.
"Safe zones, in case the world ends." Daryl replied flatly.
Beth stopped in her tracks. "What?"
"It's called sarcasm." Daryl said. "I'm mapping out places to hunt in the fall."
"Oh!" Beth laughed awkwardly and leaned over his shoulder a bit to look at the maps. However, that lasted for all of about ten seconds before Daryl's shoulders tensed up, and he all but snapped.
"Don't you have to work today?"
"Not until two." Beth replied, but took it as a hint to back off a bit. She wasn't sure why he was like that...fine one moment, then barking the next.
"It's one fifteen."
"SHIT!" Beth whipped her head around wildly, looking for a clock. When she finally found one, saw that it was, in fact, quarter after one and that she had, in fact, wasted the entire day sleeping. "SHIT, SHIT, SHIT."
That was all Beth could say, as she ran around wildly, grabbing her work clothes and bolting out the door, not even noticing she'd be running down the road in silky pink pyjamas.