Room 401, Sunday Night

Jenny stumbled through a Door into her room, still drunk and possibly stoned, fresh from a spring break spent terrorizing innocent pubkeepers refamiliarizing herself with London. The original intention of her trip had been to remind the government that she was still around, so don't do anything stupid, but she wasn't sure it had quite worked out according to plan.

Oh, well. Gordon Brown was hardly the first PM whose desk she'd puked on, and he probably wouldn't be the last.

She collapsed facedown on her bed, fully dressed, and was unconscious in about a second. So pretty much a usual night for her, then.

((Establishy!))