Ninth Hell Campfire, Friday Afternoon

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Griff was almost thankful for the steady throb of his hangover as it helped him not try to think or remember because that would start the groaning again and his head already was in danger of exploding. At least that was how it felt.

He was sprawled out in the shade next to the dead campfire, far from the stench of last night's clothes, clutching an unopened six-pack of water to his chest.

"I need to be magic," he muttered, wincing as his fingers dully smashed at the plastic encasing the bottles and keeping him from the only thing he knew could help him just then.

[Open like an unlit campfire!]

The Shooting Range, Friday Afternoon

[weetuskenraider]

They hadn't exactly set a scheduled time, so it was after lunch when Tahiri headed back to the dorms and the shooting range to meet Triela.

The rules sign was posted as usual, and as she waited Tahiri picked out a lane and occupied herself with cleaning and inspecting her blaster.

[OOC: And she's here to meet Triela, as it says, but the range is of course open.]