The Titan Code

23. Head in the Sand

2am rolls in and I awake with a start. I must've passed out on the sofa from the drink, my head is spinning and I feel sick as a dog. Magically imbibed wine and tequila shots apparently make you hungover pretty quick.

Then it hits me.

Hermes kissed me last night.

Actual mega-hot genuine God Hermes kissed me. And it was good, bloody good.

My stomach lurches as I grab the bin and throw up.

Not quite so romantic and I will definitely think about it properly soon but right now I need to concentrate on not dying, maybe rehydrating but hopefully passing out until I'm cured.

*

The metallic trill of the phone cuts through my haze and forces me to scrabble around one-handedly looking for a way to stop it making my brain contract.

"What?" I croak, my eyes too blurry to read the name.

"Are you alright? You sound dreadful."

Alex's concerned voice hurts my ears and simultaneously the embarrassment and realisation returns from yesterday. I drank the drinks but really it's because of him, stupid him being all noble, which forced me to get drunk. 

"I am horrendously hungover this morning, Alex, as it happens, and spent a good portion of the early hours vomiting in a bin," I grumble. The bin lies next to my bed, half full of my expulsions, sending disgusting smells wafting over to me which make me want to puke all over again.

"I didn't think you'd drank that much at lunch?"

"I didn't. I drank wine and tequila last night, which I now realise was a terrible mistake."

I can hear him sniggering on the other end of the line and I swear I'm going to find a way to magically punch thim through the display.

"Agreed. Okay, I won't keep you from your slow death, just wanted to update you on last night."

My mind whirls and I shut my eyes to regain some stability. What's he on about? Oh, it was his turn to travel, and I was taking ill-advised shots and kissing, not that I'm telling him, he made his position quite clear.

I make a non-committal noise and he proceeds to tell me how he overheard Docker and some others talking about how their suppliers are getting nervous about this development and want to see a resolution within a month or they're going to reevaluate their situation. 

"Basically we have no more than a month to act because they'll probably use Elaine as a bargaining tool before the deadline," he finishes.

"That's gives us something to work to," I mutter in response, even thought it's important news I'm not quite receptive to new information right now, "although didn't Eric say the council vote is coming soon?"

"Yeah, we'll have to follow up on that."

"You do that, but I plan on dying today so if you don't mind..."

"Right, yeah. Where you doing shots by yourself, then?" The tone of surprise doesn't escape me but no way am I telling the whole story. 

"No, actually, a friend popped over and brought the tequila," I explain wearily.

"A friend? Good for you, Ella." He doesn't sound patronising or disinterested, rather genuinely supportive and encouraging. He knows how I live my life, he knows how I've isolated myself so I think he's glad for me expanding my horizons. 

"Anyway," he continues, "do you need anything? I could order a delivery for you?"

"Alex," I say softly, with fondness, "I'll be fine, I'm not dying, I'm hungover, nothing bad's going to happen just because I-"