"Hangovers are the worst," she informed him, sounding very pathetic. Look, the paracetamol was working, just not fast enough for Little Miss Impatientpants.

Or, rather, Little Miss I'd-Like-My-Head-To-Stop-Beating-Like-The-Club's-Dancefloor.

"I probably should have realized that my body wouldn't recognize alien alcohol. The alien bit should have been a clue, I think."

'Should have.'