He woke to something unusually soft cushioning his head (which he found to be rather sore indeed). That answered that old question, then. He could indeed get drunk. He was only thankful that he did not yet feel sickly, though perhaps that might be preferable to feeling as though his skull would open at any second.
As he shifted in an attempt to sit up, he found that he had neglected to use a pillow entirely, and had instead lain across the bed, using his wife as a pillow. She looked ever so sweet as she slept, a little smile curling her lips. He could not help but kiss her forehead. He was obligated to.
He rolled out of bed with less grace than he was want to, his legs feeling unsteady beneath him, and an acute dizziness suddenly assailing him. He reached out a hand toward a nearby table in order to steady himself. When his vision had cleared, he was finally able to evaluate the room in which they found themselves.
