❝ LADY LUCK! ❞ → MARVEL

- TWO

TWO

→ ❝ welcome! ❞

          Harper closed the red, leather bound notebook with a sigh, resting her head against the wall behind her bed. The corners were tatted and the spine had been patched up more times than she thought would be needed; the book was clearly showing its age of nearly 26 years. She closed her eyes – partially to stop any tears falling from them and partially to calm her churning, hungover stomach – and hugged the notebook close to her chest, metaphorically bringing her mother closer to her. God, how she missed her.

          Running a hand through her frizzy hair, she clambered out of bed (pulling the pale pink sheets to the floor with her) and plodded towards the bathroom after sitting on the carpeted floor for a minute, holding her vomit in. It was rare that she ever felt this rough, and she was rather afraid of looking in the mirror in fright of what she may see.

          Her bare feet echoed around the pristine bedroom, and she wondered if her maids were making her breakfast or dinner. Regretting the idea immediately, she ran the remaining short distance to her bathroom (ignoring the protests from her aching feet, prompting her to never wear those specific red heels again) and threw her head over the marble toilet bowl. At the rate she was going: she hoped it was neither. She whispered an apology to whichever unlucky maid was going to have to clean it up before emptying her guts once again, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at whatever mess was coming up this time.

          A knock came at the door (which was creaked open the slightest degree), followed by a timid voice clearing their throat and speaking through the crack. "Ma'am? Are you alright in there?"

          "Hungover," she groaned back the shortest sentence she could before retching again, "As usual. What did I even do last night, Olivia?"

          "Well, ma'am, y-"

          Harper groaned, waving her hand as though the voice had super-vision and could see her through the door. "Come in, Liv. I don't want to talk to you through the door."

          "Oh," the voice gasped and the door opened to reveal a short, thin woman with smooth black hair framing her face, who promptly shut it again behind her. She mentally ticked off each event from her boss' night, "Uh, yes. After you left the casino, you went to Bingham's, and danced on the bar and did shots of Bacardi with the mayor. You didn't come back until half nine this morning, you went to George Osborne's house in the end for whatever party he was having."

          "I don't even like Bacardi," Harper lazily groaned again, becoming sensitive to the bright light that Olivia had turned on. "And I'm too old for house parties now, next time please remind me of my self respect." She resisted the urge to vomit, believing that her throat couldn't possibly survive another round. "What time is it?"

          Olivia glanced at her watch, "Um, nearly six."

          Harper shot up from her slumped position at the toilet bowl, her head pulsing in protest, "Six?! Already?!"

          "Yes," Liv nodded and quickly walked over, her black heels clicking against the polished tiles. She hooked her arms around Harper and helped her to walk into the dressing room, despite the ginger's objections that she could stand just fine by herself. "I think you were asleep just before I came in."

          "Wouldn't surprise me," Harper laughed to herself, immediately relaxing as Liv gently pulled a brush through her hair, detangling it before she tamed it with a flat iron.