He was sprawled on a floor that smelled faintly of pine cleaner and regret. Around him, the remnants of the night lay like a battlefield: a single silver loafer, a half-eaten burrito, and a literal traffic cone wearing a tuxedo vest. This was the aftermath—the living definition of .
Leo sat up, his brain feeling three sizes too large for his skull. "Guys?" he croaked. subtitle The Hangover
The three of them stood, a shaky alliance of headache and mystery, ready to piece together a night they were reasonably sure they’d never be allowed to forget. He was sprawled on a floor that smelled