His head pounds and his mouth feels as though someone stuffed notebook paper within it overnight. As much as he might want to move, Marius finds himself all but kept in place by his aching head and a stomach all but promising mutiny if he makes the wrong movement.

Gradually, he turns himself on one side to reach for the water bottle Rat tossed onto the bed. He groans as sharp pain shoots through him; his hand shakes a bit as he manages to get the cover off to take a deep, nourishing gulp of water.

All the while, figments of last night keep swirling around in his brain, only adding to his dizziness.

"Shit," he croaks, repeating himself as he tries to ignore the rising nausea within him.