My head feels like it's been split open with an axe. The sunlight streaming through the windows is a personal attack, and every heartbeat sends a fresh wave of pain through my skull. Another hangover, another morning I can barely remember. But the warm body beside me is familiar - the elegant slope of Eliot's shoulders, the dark curls falling across his forehead. We've done this countless times now - waking up tangled together, the evidence of our passion scattered around the room - but neither of us has ever mentioned it in the sober light of day.

The sound of Margo slamming the door open jolts us both awake. 'Wake up, you useless kings!' she shouts, flinging a parchment onto the bed between us. 'Our supply is gone. All of it.'

Eliot groans and buries his face in the pillow. 'Who dares interrupt my beauty sleep?'

I pick up the note, squinting against the pain in my eyes, and read aloud. 'If you ever want to get fucked up again, you're going to have to work for it. Complete my errands three, bitches! Bring unto me mushrooms from the fairy fields, ice from the lagoon, and a ham sandwich on rye from the Two Moons. I've cursed you so you will remain sober until the quest is complete. No magic allowed! No shortcuts! No loopholes! Talk to each other. Face. Your. Shit!' And then there's Josh's signature. And a drawing of a hand flipping us off. And an anatomically improbable sketch of an enormous cock and balls.

Margo storms across the room and drives her stiletto through the parchment. 'That condescending little shit. I'm going to put my foot so far up his ass he'll be tasting leather for a month.'

Eliot finally sits up, running a hand through his messy hair, and studies me with an intensity that makes my heart race. 'Well, Q? Feel like facing our shit today?'