Blame it on the Alcohal

[Maxwell "Spotlight" Crescent]

(The 12th, the day after "Underaged Drinkers" open to Tara and Spotlight until a bit later.)

Loud.

Why was everything so fucking LOUD?

Max groaned, lifting up, curling his hands over the couch's arms, rubbing his hand on his head. What had happened last night? He felt sick, stomach churning, head throbbing, the sound of the air finally starting to clear and pound in his eardrums. He whimpered and coughed. He was going to throw up at some point today, he could tell.

The night had started to clear a bit as his memory returned to him. The party he was at: remembered. Meeting with Alex Summers: Remembered. Meeting Sharpshooter: Remembered. The rest of the night after the third shot of tequila: fuzzy.

He groaned and rolled over on his stomach. How'd he ended up on the Xavier study couch? He peered at the other end of the couch, eyes widening. He'd taken the mutant girl home with him?

He recalled a few drunken words as he flagged down a cab. Where did she live? How far was it? No way was he letting her go there alone as drunk as they both were. He surmised she must have listened to him.

"Hey," he whispered, "Hey, wake up."

[Tara Sullivan]

Hey, wake up.

The teen groaned at the sound of a voice. Tara would love nothing more than to keep sleeping at the moment. Her head was throbbing, she felt nauseous, and the only thing she wanted to do was sleep. The night before felt like a distant memory. Like a dream. She remembered sneaking into a mutant party and she remembered seeing a couple of guys and a mutant chick, but what they talked about was a distant blur. There was drinking involved. She could vaguely recall taking shots with one of them. Anything after that was a memory that vanished.

"I'm up, I'm up," she grumbled, lifting herself to sit up. She lazily opened her eyes, rubbing them as she did so. It didn't take long for her to realize something was wrong. She had no clue where she was. This wasn't home. This wasn't home at all. A startled expression blanketed her face as she looked around the area before focusing on the other teen. Spotlight. That was his name. If she could remember his name, that had to be a good sign. Was this his house? What happened last night? Was her mother having a mental breakdown? Far too many questions spilled into Tara's head.

She placed a hand on her forehead and groaned again. "Where am I?" she managed to ask. Turquoise orbs stared at the boy, hoping for an answer. If he didn't know where they were, then something went seriously wrong the night before.