When the first streak of sunlight had awoken him, it brought with it an aggravating pulse in his brain. He turned away from the sun and tried to return to the chaos of his dreams, back to the delicious women he had been chasing. But like the three naked women, sleep also seemed to flee from his grasp. Instead of sleep, the only thing that filled his head was a very nagging ache and the familiar image of his room as if remained burned into the insides of his eyelids.
With a deep groan from the very depths of him, Kendrick stood up, naked above the waist. His limbs were heavy with grogginess and the aches that remained of his drunken adventure from the night before. He didn't feel very wakeful, despite the fact that it was nearing noon. The nagging of his hangover kept him, nonetheless, stumbling over (yet on) his feet, even though he swayed dangerously this way and that before taking a few steps.
Kendrick found his way to the wash basin, which was littered with bits of hair from his last shave - weeks ago now - and stains of dirty water. Ignoring this, he splashed clean water onto his grizzled face to try to scare off the look like sleep in his eyes. A few handfuls of water later, the man looked at himself in the dusty, film-covered mirror above the skin. Brown eyes told him that yes, indeed he was awake, but the light bruising on the wrinkled skin made him look older than he ever wanted to be. There was a dazed look on his face, one he couldn't really shake even when he tried, one that reminded him of just how barbaric he was actually feeling. He took the towel off the rack nearby and patted his face dry, a few lonesome drop trickling onto his bare chest.
Last night hadn't been very clear to him. Right now it existed as a series of blurred images of faces and bodies and drink. There was something pressing on his mind, something that he had scheduled for today, something he had scheduled yesterday before he had taken a bottle to his face and he simply couldn't figure out what that had been. While he tried to sort through the mass of sloppy memories, he rolled his shoulders backwards until they cracked in their sockets satisfyingly. He took his head in his hands and turned it to crack his spine, one way and then the other. With the satisfactory crunch of bone in his ears, that bitch of a headache returned full force and almost drove him back into his bed with a thud.
That was, until there was a knock at his chamber door. He paused briefly, figuring that it was just a student looking to get some extra credit for sucking him off again. He was tempted to ignore it but he turned the handle and yanked the door open until he was face to face with someone who looked vaguely familiar.
