The third point of view:
Reina felt horrible. To make matters worse, the sun filtering through the open window didn't help her hangover at all. She moaned, her eyes stirring open.
What the hell happened to her? Where was last night? What happened to last night? Why was it morning already? Questions upon questions assaulted her brain which worsened the headache.
Why do people even drink? It was obvious that hangover was a great mood killer yet humans still kept coming back for more? Were humans a sucker for pain or something?
With a loud earth-shattering grunt, Reina drew herself so she could sit up on her bed. Her body ached; every fiber of her being hurt. It was almost as if she was run over by a truck, then died, resurrected, yet got hit again and continued the procession all over again - this was the worst hangover she had ever experienced in her entire life.
