Rose woke with the banging head from hell, her mouth was dry and fuzzy and the merest hint of light, when she attempted to open her eyes, was agony. She tried to turn over, feeling unfamiliar cotton sheets around her and the unfamiliar smell of laundry detergent she did not use. Confusion breaking through the fog.

Slowly opening one eye, she took in a masculine room around her, wooden slatted blinds letting a little light peep through from outside. Just enough to make her retract under the covers until she adjusted. Her stomach was mimicking a washing machine and when she resurfaced to try again, the first thing she saw...