Alien Hangovers are the Worst

[smartass_captain]

Jim doesn't want to be here. His ears are ringing, everything is too bright, and he is crazy sore. There are slightly more immediate matters at hand, however. Kirk clears his throat before facing the forum.

"Is there a proper flower or card to express 'Sorry I passed out and drooled on you before puking on the floor'? Because I really need that right now." Jim rubs at his face slowly, scrubbing it over his eyes and down his cheeks.

And no, giving him a bucket isn't necessary. He's more or less fine now, just feeling really awful right this second. In more than one way.

This isn't floor 3!

[dreading_dungeons]

Down some stone steps comes the heroine.

She is clad in a ridiculous assortment of clothing items- some regular clothes, sure, but also some flippy-floppies and what you're pretty sure is some sort of cyber...traffic cone? As a hat? She is armed with a macuahuitl and a couple of grimy softballs. The sword is studded with military-grade circuit board.

She stops after a few steps into the open (obviously uncomfortable with the whole business of open spaces), and frowns, grabbing a map from a (stuffed, overburdened, suspiciously noisy) backpack. A few confused noises and consultation of copious, wrinkly notes, and she looks around.

The Sign greets her with its usual fanfare. It blinks a bit more than usual when noticed, even. There might be a trumpet flourish.

"...So, like-" She sounds a little Valley-Girl, and a little confused. "Is it normal for ancient dungeons to be connected to things like this, and I just slept through that class? Or, like, should I actually be worried?"

She is probably way underleveled for this.