My room, 307. [ raylan scrubs his eye with the heel of his hand, grimacing. something about this is just making him feel kind of pathetic. maybe he should quit chugging bourbon back like it's air and he's a drowning man. maybe he should do this and maybe he will, or maybe he won't. depends on how the rest of this "day" pans out. ] I can probably hold off, if you're short. Mostly just wanted to complain about it a little.

[ god, but his head is killing him, though. he hasn't been kicked this bad by a hangover for a long time. ] Hair of the dog, though, how real is that? You hear mixed messages.