Once YT has recovered sufficiently to open her eyes - or at least sort of crack one eyelid open - she looks balefully at him and says, "I'll only forgive you 'cause you told me hangover remedy," she says flatly. "Bar, an espresso with two more aspirin."

A small cup in a saucer materializes, accompanied by two white pills: YT quickly pops the pills in her mouth, then downs the espresso, before she loses the wherewithal to keep her head held up. That done, she crosses her arms on the bar and cradles her head in them, contemplating the idea of going back up to her room. But she doesn't think she can handle the stairs in her present state.

Getting to one of the booths at the periphery of the Bar - with padded seats and blessedly dimmer light - seems manageable, though. "I'm gonna go over there," she grumbles, pointing towards the nearest booth, "and stay there until I stop feeling like crap. Then maybe I'll be up to talking." Mustering her courage, she gets unsteadily to her feet, pushes off from the Bar and wobbles over to the nearest booth, where she collapses onto the cushioned bench and lays her head on the table.