Ch 12
When John woke again Rose was sitting up on the edge of the bed eyeing a collection of pill bottles she had amassed, "I know you can't take aspirin, or Time Lords can't, so would it only half kill you?" she mused, then noticing he was awake she smiled at him, "how's the head?"
"Aside from feeling like demons wearing spiked heels are tap dancing on my brain? Great," John sat up slowly.
"I can imagine," she laughed, "you were pretty pissed," she looked at the bottles again, "what can you take for a headache?"
"I would think chopping it off at the neck would work," John rubbed his head ruefully.
"Bit drastic," she kissed him on the forehead, "how about a nice cup of tea and some dry toast instead?" she stood up and offered her hand to him, "come on, shift."
Pete was already at the breakfast table when they came downstairs. He managed to plaster on a smile when he saw Rose, but it didn't reach his eyes. He took in John's rumpled clothes, his hair hastily smoothed down and the tight pained look on his face and his expression softened, "rough night?" he asked.
"Definitely," John replied gingerly sitting down, trying not to make any sudden movements.
"Been there myself," Pete laughed, "at university I once got in a drinking contest with a mate who grew up in Russia, never try to match shots with a man who drank vodka before he even started school."
Rose was ready to do battle with her Stepfather over his treatment of John but seeing them talking now, Pete with the familiar paternal tones she had come to love as he addressed John, she decided this was a fight she may not need to ever have, and wisely backed off.
Pete jumped up, "I'll fix you a sure fire hangover cure," he snapped his fingers, "guaranteed to get rid of the worst symptoms! Be right back!"
"Why does that sound dangerous?" John watched Pete as he trotted out of the room.
Rose was halfway through her first slice of toast when Pete reappeared. He held out a glass that looked to be filled with a diluted tomato juice and something frothy on top. He set it in front of John with a flourish, "here it is!" he declared.
Making no move to pick it up John peered at the glass with suspicion, "what's in it?" he asked warily.
"Tabasco, mineral water, white pepper, celery juice, freshly squeezed lemon, mint and a raw egg," Pete rattled off still beaming at the concoction, "and a shot of the hair of the dog!"
"What am I supposed to with that?"
"Drink it, of course!" Pete slapped him on the shoulder before re-taking his seat.
"There's dog hair in this?" John picked up the glass and twirled some of the contents around his finger.
"No, no, 'hair of the dog' is an old saying, means I put a shot of vodka in it, to ease your head a bit," Pete explained as he took a bite of his eggs, "it'll help, believe me."
John looked at Rose for reassurance, still not convinced Pete wasn't trying to poison him. She nodded encouragingly, "sounds nasty," she advised, "and believe me it tastes pretty nasty too, but it works. When I first got sent here, I went on a bit of a bender and he made me a few of those, it does the trick."
Although still not convinced, John tipped the glass to his mouth, ignoring the smell coming from within and gulped it down. The stuff slid down his throat as one slimy lump as the hot sauce burned his mouth. He started to sweat almost immediately and tried not to be sick as the raw egg left a film on his tongue.
Pete poured him a glass of water and chuckled softly as John drained without pausing for a breath.
As soon as the burning sensation retreated John realised he was hungry and reached for a slice of toast, "there ya go!" Pete boomed, "told ya it would work!"