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Even at eighteen, Carmody Jefferson had worse hangovers, and she ain't yet had one she couldn't kick out of at two.
She felt a little fuzzy and thick between the ears, like she had a brain full of molasses and feathers. But the intense nausea, the hot throbbing pounding, and the aching shakes of a true full-on wish-you-were-dead hangover were all missing or only visited her lightly and sporadically. The aches and pains of the beating she took from Lightning Nika are still with her too, but she knew in the back of her mind that that was the kind of thing she'd have to learn to live with as a wrestler. Unless she gave it up and quit the business soon, she'd never know a life without that kind of pain again.
Ironically, Sola Fire coming apart when she did had spared Carmody a worse poisoning from the spiked punch, for she'd had to cut off her own drinking and switch to chugging water and sobering up to help Sola out. It had sort of worked; Carmody'd taken on the role of the sober friend and gotten them both home safe. But then there had been Sola getting cozy with her in the cab, and inviting her to stay in the Dojo.....
Carmody smiles at the thought, even as she realizes it's probably better to revisit that when they're not both hung over. Maybe over a banana crunch smoothie or two.
After a cup of coffee, a coconut water, and an orange juice, Carmody catches the first bus to the Dojo. Her face is puffy and clearly shows her discomfort, but she shows up for her training on time, dressed, and ready to go. She walks into the gym, shooting sympathetic looks to Sola and Paule, then greeting Ash Romero with a nod.
>"Carmody Jefferson, present. Ready for today's exercises."
She begins stretching again to loosen up for their lessons.
