Selinica didn't sleepwalk. Sometimes she fell off the bed - no matter how big it was - and sometimes she drooled in her sleep, usually after a particularly exhausting day or interesting night. But she did not sleepwalk. She sleep-talked. Often with enthusiasm, though rare in occurrence. It was the giggles, however, that made anyone at all familiar with her quirk a brow. Whatever it was, it had been enough to drive John away from her vicinity at the pure discomfort the particular tone and subject matter of her words. You would too, if someone were like a sister to you.
Amos slept like a log. Probably sawing logs, not that she could have told, given her deep sleep of inebriation. It wasn't a fitful sleep, per se. But it wasn't exactly still either.
*****
0842 hrs
Transport Mitternacht
Raxus Prime
Hangovers were more often than not worse than a quick death itself. It was mornings like this that Miri badly wanted for a pot or two of caf and was otherwise a run-down version of her usual self without it, anyone else in the facility having to deal with her vacant stares and noncommittal grunts of contribution to what often ended up as awkward conversation on those mornings anyway. The morning scrub-up had been a languishing enjoyment, but not enough by far to blot out the pounding of her head and anguished formation of thoughts, dying from lack of final realization. It was damn hard to focus when your head was ripping apart.
Finally having dragged herself out of bed, showered up and wrapped in a towel, Selinica Miriya thought nothing of the fact that she was back on her ship as many times when in such a stupor, she had somehow managed to get there. So when she wandered about to the common area, hand on toothbrush scrubbing in and out of her mouth, padding along the steely cool feel of the deck in slippers, the surprise to her eyes cause three things: her toothbrush hung loosely out the corner of her mouth, mouth agape and anger gurgled. Irrational female hormonal hangover anger. The blonde stared.
"John..." She clapped shut her mouth and her brow knit in a measurable amount of discontent as she snapped her blue eyes from Glayde to the scruffy-looking individual closeby to him and back. "...what's with the wookiee, how did I get here, how did you get in here...."
She did a double take, now looking slightly pissed, rubbing coarsely at her temples, leveling a hard stare at her old friend. "...and what in seven hells is with that look on your face?"
Then annoyance: "Seriously. Stop looking at me like that." A barely audible whine could be heard under the words.
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