Delia sighed happily as the alarm finally quit. She looked up crookedly to see it was the brown haired woman who had done it. Blessed silence descended and for the first time since she had awoke Delia felt almost normal. Or at least normal enough to sit back up straight and try again for her feet. This time she went slower. She was a little wobbly. Nevertheless she made it to her feet without getting a head rush. She wiggled her bare toes against the carpet. She made a mental note to make sure to by some anti-fungal soap so she wouldn't catch anything nasty.

[color=00aeef][b]It's over there, on the sofa,[/b][/color]

Delia turned her head and sure enough, there was her purse. The other woman had been nice enough to pass it over. Maybe a little too nice. But Delia didn't care about that at the moment. She seized her monstrosity of a purse and pulled it open. [color=bc8dbf][i]Cellphone[/i][/color]. She thought as she rummaged through her crap. The iPhone was on the bottom, like usual. She pulled the phone out in triumph. She tapped the screen but nothing happened. Delia tapped it again and pressed the button on top. Nothing. 

Delia frown and held down the power button. Thankfully the phone flashed to life. Though Delia was a little disturbed. She never turned off her phone. Not even when really, really drunk. The small bubble of panic she had kept tightly under control was beginning to grow again. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Maybe the battery was low. But no, that hope was dashed as it saw it was almost at full power.

The young woman moaned slightly but tried to muffle the sound. She wasn't going to panic. Not yet. She'd call call Dax and everything would be okay. After all she had just gotten drunk and passed out in a strange motel room with a strange woman she hadn't slept with. It was all cool. The phone finished starting and she tapped in her password. Her eyes strayed to the date and time and she froze. The phone slipped from her hands and fell to the floor.

"[color=bc8dbf]Oh God.[/color]" Delia said. "[color=bc8dbf]Oh God.[/color]" She repeated. "[color=bc8dbf]Oh God.[/color]" Over and over.

She heard as if from a long distance her phone jingle, telling her she had missed calls, or texts or even e-mails. But she didn't listen. Her story, her lie that she had gone to a party unraveled. Even if she had gotten smashed she couldn't have forgotten three days. Three! Delia slipped down the wall and curled around herself. 

What did she remember? Delia knew she had gone to work. It had been, Tuesday? Wednesday? An odd day to party. So that would make this Friday or Saturday. She swallowed and breathed through her mouth, trying not to be sick. She didn't remember what had happened. Had she gone home? Did she even leave the office?