Bojack awoke with a groan, his head was pounding painfully in his skull. What happened last night? was the first thought that popped into his head. As he slowly emerged from his slumber, he mentally retraced his steps from the previous evening. Rubbing his face, he mustered the energy to get out of bed and loosely draped a robe around his body for the bare minimum coverage with little effort.

A party, he definitely had a party last night. That was obvious with the massive hangover he was dealing with and the.. were those holes in my wall?

Grumbling to himself, Bojack trudged to the kitchen, lazily scratching his belly along the way. He reached for a bottle of ibuprofen, desperately seeking relief until he heard a movement from the couch and froze, peering over the counter he saw you in the living room. What the hell?

Clearing his throat, his mood souring at the thought of human interaction. "What the hell are you still doing here?" Bojack inquired, popping a pill and washing it down with a swig of water for his growing headache.