Hangover
Clara woke up as the sun's midmorning rays hit her face. She didn't think that last night's events would hit her that hard, but she supposed that her own exhaustion was more than enough proof that what happened had indeed happened.
That was… assuming that she could even remember what exactly happened.
[That's what you get for drinking last night,] Sheba scoffed at her.
Her eyes widened as she groggily sat herself up on the bed. Looking around, she quickly noted that they were still in the inn that they stayed in to have a stopover. The plushie that she won in that archery stall was also in the room with her, the massive thing standing right by her side of the bed as she blinked away as much of the developing headache she had as she could. On her other side, Gilas seemed to still be asleep. He was fully clothed, thankfully, but there was indeed a stench of alcohol lingering between them.