Her mind reeled within a still half-drunken stupor, the faint stench of alcohol loomed on her breath as well as her surroundings. A dull throbbing pounding pushed at the edges of her cranium and made her groan, rolling onto her side and then on her stomach, proceeding to bury her head under the silken pillows in attempt to dull the pain even in the slightest. Other than the pressure rattling around in her skull, Namie had a rough, bruised sensation aching between her legs as well as her ass, causing her to wince when she moved her legs even a centimeter. Either she just ran a mile or two, or just had the roughest, drunkest sex ever last night.

Finding an unpleasant breeze rippling down her apparently bare backside, she realized she was naked – thusly backing up the crazy monkey sex theory from before. Mother of God, she never remembered being this sore last time she did it with someone.

"And she's awake!"

A chuckle from across the room and her deep chocolate irises dart to the other side of the neatly-kept room, a dark-haired man in a fur-lined hooded jacket sat in a chair with one leg over the other. Though upon seeing Namie rise from her alcohol-driven slumber, he un-crossed them and leaned forward with his elbows rest on his knees and his palm cradling his chin.

"I thought you were out for good with the amount you drank last night!"

His voice bit and teased, something that Namie hated. Always beating around the bush and never getting to the point right away - that was this man's game. This much was especially true over the coarse of the evening previous, she barely remembered.

"Shaddup…"

She slurred as she rose from her entanglement within this man's bed-sheets, wrapping the silken fabric around her stark-naked body and made her way slowly – wincing every once and a while – to the bathroom just a little ways passed Izaya; that was what she remembered his name being, at least.

"Ahh, was I too rough? You seem to be having a hard time walking…Namie Yagiri, was it? Oh, of course that's your name! I make it my business to know all the humans in the Tokyo region's name. Never know when the information might be of use, you know."

"I really don't give a shit."

Namie hissed as she reached for the pack of cigarettes that rest on the tall, black stand just outside the bathroom door and took the small blue lighter in her other, lighting up the stick of chemicals and sticking the other end between her lips. Izaya 'tsk'-ed her and rose from his seat, taking the barely lit cigarette in his fingers and tossed it to the floor, snuffing it out with the sole of his shoe against the hardwood floor.

"Now, now, Namie-chan; no smoking indoors, okay? Don't want to start a fire, now do we?"

"Che, whatever; just do me a favor and never sleep with me ever again, 'kay? 'Kay. I'm going to take a shower."

Before she could enter or even placed her hand on the doorknob, Izaya's hot breath was on the back of her neck and a flash of brief memories from the previous night came rushing back to her – the way his breath fanned across her naked skin and the sharp bites of his bruising kisses. He was rough, she remembered, way too rough for her liking.

"Look at you, acting so arrogant when you're the scum here. Weren't you the dead drunk one? Weren't you the one that suggested that we 'went upstairs'? No, it wasn't me; that was all you, you pathetic drunken slob of a woman."

Oh, the cold edge to his words sent an aroused shiver to trickle down Namie's spine. Now she remembered why she slept with him.

"But you were the one that agreed, weren't you?"

The raven-haired woman replied coolly, her dainty hand falling on the doorknob and gently turning the handle. A laugh echoed from behind her and the familiar warmth of his mouth kissed the ridges in her spine, the last bit of intimate touching he would give her – at least for now.

"Touché."