Hair of the Dog {open}

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

He was in the middle of a vast ocean, nothing to see on any side of him but ocean and sky, both so blue that it was impossible to tell where the water ended and the sky began. He was treading water, or perhaps air, feeling weightless and heavy at the same time. Hearing a noise behind him he turned. There was a small boat in the distance and he could make out a brunette woman aboard. He blinked and it was suddenly beside him. Cassidy cooed at the little girl in her arms before turning an emotionless look toward him. He blinked and Clementine was gone, Cassidy’s empty hands now on her stomach which started to swell before his eyes, rounding out as the child grew, months passed in seconds, and when he looked up at her face, he found Kate looking down at him. Shaking her head sadly, the boat began to drift away. Holding a hand out to her, he began to sink lower until hearing a load snort behind him.

Turning around again, Frank Duckett held a bloody hand out to him, the other clutched tightly to his chest. His expression was pained, confused... accusing. Blink. Duckett was gone, replaced by a boar with burning red eyes. With an angry snort it charged him. Ducking below the water, he stayed below the surface for as long as he could. When the need for air struck him he tried to swim upward, but suddenly there were hands holding him down. Feeling his lungs about to burst he struggled, looking up through the clear water at the face of Anthony Cooper, Tom Sawyer and a million other names. The chain still hung around his neck, his mouth was open in silent laughter, and James Ford couldn’t breath, couldn’t fight. Unable to hold it any longer he gasped for breath, the water filling his lungs, choking him, drowning him, pulling him to the bottom...

His eyes snapping open, Sawyer bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. The air was cool and he drank it in greedily for a moment before reality forced itself upon him. Then the pounding started in his head and he felt like it was going to explode. Falling back down against the pillows, he clamped his hands over his eyes, swearing loudly. He couldn’t remember how much he had drank last night; in fact, he couldn’t remember a whole hell of a lot.

Couldn’t remember... heh, mission accomplished, then. Too bad it was only one night the liquor had allowed him to forget.

Stumbling out of bed, he nearly tripped over the clothes he had managed to discard last night before hurling himself toward the washroom. Gripping the edges of the sink for dear life, he tried to steady himself but the whole room felt like it was swaying, trying to pitch him onto the floor while that bloody big gong kept going off in his head. Keeping one hand tight on the sink, he turned the tap on cold, filling his hand with water and splashing it on his face. Taking a deep breath, he squinted at his reflection with narrowed eyes. Well, at least he looked just about as good as he felt.

Taking a few breaths, Sawyer pushed himself away from the sink. He needed to take a leak, and then it was time for some hair of the dog and a big ol’ plate of grease. Hopefully a swanky place like this knew how to make a good old fashioned plate of bacon and eggs.

Once he was finished in the washroom, Sawyer shakily made his way back to the room. Pulling on his jeans, he grabbed the clean shirt that had been provided, compliments of Oceanic in what was mostly likely just the first gift in a series of “don’t sue us” perks. And pulled it down over his head. Not even bothering to straighten out his mussed up hair, or grab a pair of shoes, he wandered barefoot out into the hallway. Groaning as the harsh lighting hit his eyes (even subtle lighting felt harsh this morning), he hoped to whatever God, who obviously hated his sorry ass if He even existed, that there was some little gift shop in the lobby that could provide some good, dark sunglasses or the rest of this morning was going to be even more hellish than it already was.

Pressing the button for the lift, he leaned heavily against the wall, eyes closed, as he waited for the head shattering “ding!” that was to follow.

[hugoreyes]

The conversation with Claire the previous night had managed to lull Hurley into a somewhat comfortable slumber. However, he still felt tired when he woke up, not as much as he did before, but he was sure it might be a long time before he'd get back to being well 'normal'. Something of which that he was far from, really far from. After the island, who honestly would be normal? After all the instances, the occurrences, the death, the destruction, honestly it was a surprise that he could form sentences. Him and everyone else. Stuff like that changed people... and he was certainly changed from the experience.

Cleaning himself up from the nightly grime, Hurley changed into the set of clothes that was given before going on a search for food, pretty sure he'd heard they'd had a dinning area in the hotel. Walking past some people, he tried to move off to the side of the hallway out of their way as he headed to the elevator. It was no surprise when he saw a familiar figure, and strode forward, standing right next to him.

For a moment he didn't say anything, just stared ahead casually, or as causally as Hurley could muster, before he glanced over towards him, getting the sight of him. "Dude.. you look like.... Bad," the big man spat out suddenly. He looked more then worse for wear then he'd seen in him a long while.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Feeling someone standing suddenly next to him, Sawyer’s eyes slit open the slightest amount and he glanced sideways, his vision filled with the imposing figure of Hurley. Groaning slightly, he closed his eyes again. What were the chances that the big guy would actually keep his mouth shut and let Sawyer suffer in peace?

A snowball had a better chance in hell.

“Thanks for tha newsflash, Bryant Jumbo,” Sawyer replied, his head pounding too hard to even come up with a decent insult. Jumping suddenly when the elevator arrived, the loud dinging reverberating through his skull, he covered his eyes with his hand, pressing his thumb and middle finger to his temples.

[hugoreyes]

A retort would always follow it would seem, Hurley thought unamused by his comment. Not that he was trying to state the obvious or poke fun at the southerner, but he really did look like...well, crap. Even more so when he went clutching at his head, like the sounds pained him like a thousand knives or something. Hurley frowned concernedly, moving towards the door and pulling a hand on to stop the doors from shutting so the other man could step in before him. "You all right, Sawyer?" the man asked. Though, he looked as almost as he was ill, or had a hangover...

More likely the latter.

After all, he wouldn't be the only person that he knew had been drinking last night. He'd seen Jack stumbling and tripping his way to his room when he'd gone to his. Of course, he couldn't have left him to his own devices and made sure that he at least made inside the door before going to his own room. Jack had been beyond trashed, most of his words rather mumbled out, gargled words. He'd pretty much pretended to be playing attention, nodding along. He would hate to see how he was doing now after it all.

"I mean... You look a little green, man," he added, as he moved into the elevator then.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Hurley’s concern was touching, really it was, but did he have to talk so damn loud? He was as loud as the lights.

Stepping into the lift, Sawyer leaned in the corner, waiting for Hurley to follow

“Must be that fresh LA air takin’ its toll on me,” he snarked, watching to see that Hurley pressed the right button. As soon as the elevator started, he realised he should have braved the stairs. Feeling his stomach lurch as the descent began, he let out another nearly inaudible groan.

[hugoreyes]

"Don't you mean it more of the alcohol kind?" Hurley corrected, his one brow raising slightly in inquiry, but then he kind of regretted it. Tearing his attention he looked from Sawyer to his reflection in the elevator door, somewhat embarrassed. "I mean, not that it's my business or anything ... I just saw Jack last night.. he kinda was a bit on the toasted side. So I just figured that, you know... since you're kind of..." Irriatible, and a few other words entered his mind, but he didn't say it aloud.

"That you know... you were hanging around with him." And maybe they'd actually get along for once, but he wasn't about to hold his breath. The two had always seemed to be at each other's throats, rarely did they seem to not be. It was a rare instance indeed when they are at least not throwing verbal punches, well, Sawyer really. He had the bigger mouth and one that was rather witty indeed.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Jack. Right. He remembered now. Seemed they had both had the same idea last night, that they had way more sorrows than a minibar could drown, and had ended up pounding them back at the hotel bar. It was kind of funny in retrospect, he and Jack ‘hanging around’, getting plastered, sharing stories... well, Jack had shared stories, anyways.

“That man’s one messy drunk,” Sawyer chuckled. Jack had practically spilled his whole life story, his worries and his feelings after just a few shots. Probably made a cheap date, that guy.

When the lift suddenly lurched to a stop, Sawyer cursed under his breath as his stomach lurched right along with it.

[hugoreyes]

"Yeah... I kinda got to see... quite a bit... of it," Hurley stuttered out a bit, uncomfortably. Though that was still probably putting it mildly. He could have probably lived without seeing the man crash into the wall at one point. A shout of 'I think I got a con-con... concussion!' coming from his mouth as he stumbled along. More then vividly he could recall literally carrying the doctor because he as afraid he'd cause more harm already to himself.

However, he shook the thoughts as he looked over at Sawyer who was turning even more green as the seconds passed, especially when the elevator came to the stop. He could of sworn he saw him sway a bit."Woah dude!.... You need a bucket?" Putting a hand on his shoulder to help steady him, he looked forward as he tried to pull them both out of the elevator, very much worried that he was going to have him pull an exorcist. "I'll help you find one... Just don't blow chunks on me."

[Libby]

((Don't mind me, just passing through))

Waiting in the lobby, Libby tapped her foot anxiously as she waited for the elevator to finish its descent. Her head tipped down, her red hair hiding her face, she chewed the thumbnail of one hand, the other one clutching a shopping bag tightly. The delivery men had already come and gone, but after seeing the package set up in Charlie’s room, she had realised it was missing something. Hence the shopping bag.

“Come on, come on,” she mumbled. Charlie could be here at any time and things had to be perfect.

When the elevator finally arrived in the lobby, Libby barely waited for the doors to open before rushing on. Bumping into the larger of the two men who were making their way awkwardly out of it, she stumbled a step. Stupid, of course there would be people trying to get off. She had to calm down. She had time. It was still early yet. Charlie was probably still asleep, he wouldn’t be back this soon. Even if she wanted this to be a surprise, it was no reason to be rude and make an idiot of herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she apologised quickly before brushing past the two men. “Excuse me.”

Stepping quickly into the elevator, she turned around, pressing the close door button several times before it started to close. So much for calming down.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Sawyer gleaned a sick sense of satisfaction that others had seen Jack, the perfect doctor and hero, completely wasted. Even if they did reach a sort of understanding, it still didn’t hurt the guy to get knocked down a peg once in a while in everyone’s eyes.

Closing his eyes again when the bright lights of the lobby shone through the suddenly open elevator door, Sawyer didn’t put up a fight when Hurley practically pulled him out of the lift. He was a little perturbed, though, at the redhead that practically ran through them in an attempt to get on the lift herself.

“Hey, watch it!” he growled, steadying himself back on his own two feet again. Ignoring the apology, he quickly scanned the lobby. “I ain’t gonna blow nothin’. Forget tha bucket. Why don’t ya go get me a pair’a sunglasses from tha giftshop.”

Already he was turning himself toward the restaurant, making no move towards said gift shop himself.

[hugoreyes]

All that could be seen was a flash of red, before Hurley felt someone nearly barrel through he and Sawyer, both. There was no time to really count the apology that was called their way as it all was said and done, finding himself swaying on his own two feet, much like Sawyer had been. Managing to catch himself not be thrown off balance, he frowned a bit in confusion as he glanced back over shoulder in time to see what the whole issue was about with the woman, what was so important.

It was one of the maids, he realized after a moment. Though there was another thing he realized as the doors starting shutting closed. A face that he thought that he never thought he'd seen again, one that he wished he did but didn't at the same time either. "Libby," he mumbled quietly under his breath, stopping in his tracks as he couldn't only stare at the figure until the doors were completely closed, anything and all the Southerner said seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Blinking repetitively he tried to shake his head. No, not again. He was seeing... things. It wasn't Libby. It was probably someone that looked like Libby. That's all. Nothing more. Just a figment of his imagination, he tried to convince himself trying to shake the suddenly cold feeling slipping over him, stiffly he turned following after Sawyer, trying to shake it. "You-you say something, dude?"

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Sawyer had made it a few steps toward the restaurant when Hurley caught up to him, apparently not having heard a word he’d said. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand back through his hair in frustration. All he had wanted was a dark, quiet, greasy breakfast; was that too much to ask? Instead he had Mojo here asking if he needed help one minute then not even paying attention to the answer. He was like a crow with shiny things; it didn’t take much to distract the big guy.

“Yeah, I said... ya know, what? Nevermind. Just go get us a table,” he said, clearly annoyed. Annoyed, frustrated, yet he had just invited Hurley to join him for breakfast anyways without even a thought. So even the soft spots he tried so hard to hide for certain people couldn’t be hardened by liquor and hangovers. Doing a 180, Sawyer went for the gift shop instead.

[hugoreyes]

Hurley felt a little sheepish with the fact he had managed to sway his attention away from the Southernor a moment to not catch what he said. But he couldn't help not deny the fact it felt like his grave had been crossed over. He was seeing things again, or misinterpreting what he saw, something he knew it was his brain playing tricks on him, like it had been the last time, from the guilt. The guilt of sending Libby to get the blankets, which had let to her death. In directly, but still all the same he felt it was his fault. But he couldn't think of it now. He had to move on... for her. She would want him to move on, he tried to convince himself.

As Sawyer seemed to almost resemble a snarling animal, yet still inviting him to breakfast, he felt a little taken aback. Though, he kept moving forward towards the dinning room area, or what he assumed was the dining room, as Sawyer moved in another direction, some sort of shop. Staring over his shoulder, he watched as he disappeard a moment, before he focused on contineing foward, doing just has he asked.

"Mr. Reyes?" the waiter questioned at the booth at the entrance of the place towards him.

"Um, yeah..." he found himself stuttering out, suprised that he was known by name and he hadn't even met this man before. Or see him before. Perhaps word traveled fast? Well, he'd seen news people trying to get in from the windows above in his room. They were probably house held names already.

"It is just yourself, Sir?"

"No, um... two, dude," he stuttered again. "My... friend, he'll be here in a minute or something..."

"Right this way." The waiter seemed to nod, grabbing two menus from the collective pile, before he found himself being led to a table with two chairs. T

aking one, he sat down, before a menu was place before him and in front of the other seat. Well.... time to be reintroduced to regular food, he mused, glancing around hoping to spot Sawyer tagging along shortly. Even if it was Sawyer sitting with him, or rather, going to sit with him, there was an odd sort of comfort that he wasn't sitting alone, he continued to think, seeing as he had managed to catch a few glances from other people sitting at other tables.

[James "Sawyer" Ford]

Stomping into the gift shop, Sawyer took a moment to look around the place despite the glaring lights. Hung all over the walls were the usual vanity plates, tacky “I *heart* LA” t-shirts, and the gaudiest, sparkly Hollywood ones he had ever seen. Apparently being a tourist meant you had no fashion sense.

Fortunately they had a few functional items, a small rack of sunglasses being one of them. Unfortunately, the majority of them were gaudy as all get out too. Cat eye glasses, complete with rhinestones, were in abundance. Not his style, but any port in a storm.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Spinning the rack around, Sawyer looked carefully for anything resembling a normal old pair of dark shades. Hurley could wait a little longer. Wasn’t like he would fade away of embarrassment.

[Marie Kennedy]

Marie hated hotels, and any sort of unknown rooms, with a passion. Most certainly, that was how you reacted to changes of landscapes after moving from town to town your whole childhood. Oddly enough, she had became used to the island like she had to Sydney, years ago, but she had to 'move' yet again, and so she had been squatting warmly under the sheets of the double bed of her hotel room, her eyes wide opened for a good half of the night. It is only when she opened her green eyes and found that her room wasn't as dark as she found it when she went to bed, that she realised that she might've have been able to get some sleep, after all.

Her body only felt lightly relaxed, but her eyes weren't as heavy as they could have. The teenager groaned as she tossed and turned in her bed. However long she had managed to sleep and whichever hour it might be, she was getting up. She couldn't stand to be locked alone in her room anymore, and even tough she had been remarkably avoiding anyone's presence, last afternoon, she was going to do the exact opposite, now. The flight company wanted them in that hotel, so bad ? Then the teenager would make the most out of it.

It wasn't a mission she decided to go on with a devious grin on her face, intending to have some fun. No. She was merely forcing herself to do it, because being miserable now that she was back in civilization where she no more had her place, made absolutely no sense. Marie opened the closet, near her bathroom, and found a white dressing gown that she immediately put on. It was way oversized and her small stature was floating in it, but it was much more decent than her simple boxers and tank top. Sighing, the teenager fled her bedroom and headed for the elevator. There wasn't much action in the hallway, and she came to wonder if she wasn't incredibly early or incredibly late.

She wandered down the main Hall of the Hotel, without any goal, and passed her fingers trough her hair nervously, as some kind of a hair brush, when she felt some eyes on her. She must've been looking terribly tired, but hell, had they never seen a teenager like that, already? Marie looked around, but all the looks she was attracting seemed to be the ones of curious strangers. No one she knew seemed around. Getting out of her room now seemed to be the most pointless thing in year, but she changed her mind suddenly, deciding she was thirsty, and she entered the first shop she spotted.

Any kind of shops, even cheesy gifts shops, needed to have a fresh drink fridge and tablets filled with chocolate bars, or Marie would loose all faith in human civilization and would go back to drinking water and eating mangos all day. She let out a relieved sigh when she spotted it; the drinks fridge. She made her way to the fridge and opened it quickly, spotting just the kind of drink she wanted; a small chocolate drink carton. Home sweet home. She tore the cotenant open and took a big sip from it, sighing with delight as she made her way trough the small store. She was once again goal-less until she spotted a tall, masculine figure who's careless hair was recognisable. Of all people, she didn't expect him to be a morning person - or was it even 'morning' ?

Marie made her to him, curiously. What was it with him and the sunglasses, already?...
'' Finding your fashion? '' She questioned Sawyer casually, with a tired grin, whipping some milk off of her upper lip with the back of her hand. Undeniably, she had to be the last person he whished to chat with, but he would have to deal with it. He was the only person to be found.