Snippet #1212395

Solange walked into the dining area holding her head, face twisted into an expression of pain and a piercing glare in her eyes, threatening to murder anything and everyone who annoyed her this early in the morning, Bloody wankers didn't even make coffe yet... One wouldn't know that she was hungover unless one saw her face as she made a straight path to the vodka bottle on the counter.

Mumbling under her breath in a heavy Russian accent, "Old remedy from motherland Russia, for headaches, migranes and hangovers... drink more." With that said she took a pull from the bottle and immediately felt relief. She set about ignoring the rest of her band and her manager and making herself some coffee, as the coffeemaker started brewing the nectar of the gods she sat at the table. Ugh, donuts. Disgusting pieces of dough covered in overly-processed suga that are sure to kill you. She looked at her bandmates eating the dessert-breakfast, Though perhaps that isn't such a bad thing....