<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/c8/88/e5/c888e5269a9fd9ce9dd07279cbb1c294.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Ryder Monroe<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Liz's flat, then the hall outside<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><br/><strong>Content:</strong>Waking up confuzzled, then heading out for air.<br/><br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>As shown, minus dorag, shoes, and pants. And one sock ;D<br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>Hmmmph.  No jeans, good start. Shirt, panties, and one sock still on, though, that was weird. Head full of party cotton, bed full of...just her.<br/><br/>Where the hell<em>was</em>she?<br/><br/>Groaning, Ryder rolled over, shielding her eyes against the intolerable glare of number on the alarm clock face.  Strange bed, check. Partly naked, check. Not fucked...oh. OH! That was it, she'd been partying with Lizzie and some of her neighbors, including a fun bitchboi named...named...Liam.  That was it. She was in Liz's crib.<br/><br/>That wasn't the slightest bit weird. Not at all. Staying with her twin. Again. Like things were all normal.<br/><br/>Not bothering with her jeans, she got up, padded unsteadily into the kitchen. One ice cube came out of the freezer, was passed along the sides of her neck, her temples, over her eyelids, then popped in her mouth. Half a can of beer went past the cube and down her throat, then she went looking for aspirin and citrus. What she<em> really</em>needed was a snort, but first she needed money. Or a sharing friend...<br/><br/>The fact that she'd woken up solo meant either she'd pissed someone off and crashed and burned epically, or she'd been a good girl, and had toddled home without making a play. While pissing people off (and then getting them off) was kinda her scene, she hoped, for Liz's sake, that it was option B. She didn't want to get sis in bad with any of the folks she lived with, especially not for a one-nighter.  Suddenly startled, she realized she wasn't mad at Liz any more. For right then, at least.<br/><br/>God dammit, she'd missed her other half. The bitch.<br/><br/>She had clean clothes- some- in her duffel, which she noticed she (or someone) had managed to retrieve and get up the stairs and into the foyer with her. Had she done someone in the hall and forgotten about it? Nah, the only person she remembered really interacting with much was Liam, and they weren't each others' types, she figured, except for hanging out and making fun of all the 'normal' people. She bet the fast-talking clothes horse had a tongue as vicious as hers, if you got him going...<br/><br/>Anyway. Clothes?<br/><br/>Bah, why? According to Lizzy, the complex was some kinda queer commune, or something. Might even be against the lease to put pants on in the halls.  So she didn't, unlocking the door and taking a few steps to lean against the wall in the hallway while a surge of dizziness passed. How much had she drunk? Not a clue. Enough, clearly. Maybe she'd just hold the wall up for a bit. Maybe someone'd come by she could bum a cig off. She hated the shit, but it was great for a headache.