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Hak Jauhung doesn't open his eyes at first, because this isn't his first or tenth or thousandth rodeo. He sits with the headache for a minute, lying down on the sofa and listening to the drone of the radio he left on in the background, waiting for his body to be awake enough that he can be pretty confident he is in fact actually awake. Then, without opening his eyes, he feels around for the bottle he knows will be somewhere on the floor near the sofa and—there. Found it. He takes a long swig of the lukewarm liquor and in his empty stomach it doesn't take long for it to start to dull the edges of the pain. Then he opens his eyes.
Not that it makes much of a difference. Other than the slivers of light seeping through the crack under his door and blinds, his room is perfectly dark. But still, hangover headaches take no names and better safe than sorry.
He lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag as he sits up—ow, his lower back hurts, what happened last night?—then blows it out and watches the smoke form patterns in the air as it swirls and catches what scant light is available to see by. Feeling much better after his fix, he enables his image link and the soft blue screen appears in front of him, floating midair and neither emitting nor reflecting any light, visible only to him. The image implant was a gift from Zyu Hoi—Jauhung is pretty sure that's not his actual name, as the hanzi he uses mean "crimson" and "victory", which really is very much—and Jauhung does find it very useful. It means he doesn't have to get off his sofa until he actually feels like it, and he can just check his notifications and the news and whatever else there. Like the little blinking symbol in a corner indicating that he has voicemail from an unknown number.
That's weird. Well, first he'll check memoria's emails to verify that the couple new ones he got since yesterday aren't at all interesting, but then, yes, he'll listen to it.
