Richard was no stranger to a wild night out, and the night before had been one of the greatest in a while - a private event with a strictly controlled guest list, which had meant, among many things, that it was far less likely for any potential indiscretions to be leaked to the press. It had been a while since he'd had the chance to attend a private party, and he was so tired of having to present his best side at public events. Finally, he could actually enjoy himself!

Which he certainly had, at the time. It was a night to remember! He danced until his feet ached, he made out with... was it four people? Maybe five, if you counted the peck from that one Duke's son... and there was an open bar. The drinks just kept coming! Dance, kiss, drink, repeat -

Richard winced as he slowly opened his eyes, his head throbbing, and he quickly lifted a hand up to shield himself from the sun's rays, which had begun to invade his room. He definitely wasn't enjoying himself now that morning had broken.

... Yep, morning sure had broken. So had the screen of his comm, a clothes hanger, a glass, and... what even was that? Oh. The remains of some strange fancy gift statue which he'd been displaying on his dresser.

He screwed his eyes shut again, then heaved himself out of bed and stepped over to the window, quickly pulling the curtains closed. Too bright.

Once the sun had been banished, he then opened his eyes and looked down at himself. He hadn't gotten changed before falling into bed, so he was still wearing the same outfit he'd gone out in last night, but... well, considering how inebriated he'd been, it was surprisingly... fine? A little creased, sure, but he could definitely get away with wearing this again today. Definitely. Probably.

He quickly sniffed his armpits. Yeah, it was fine.

... what was he even meant to be doing today?

Fuck knows. Better go and ask William.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Richard very quickly began to realise that moving had been a bad idea. With a groan, he threw open the door of his brother's office, staggering over to a chaise lounge at the side of the room. He fell onto it with a soft thud, draping himself dramatically over the long-suffering piece of furniture, and flopped his head over the end.

William didn't even react to the intrusion. He was far too used to this kind of behaviour from his twin.

"Fuuuck. I'm never drinking again," he whined. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

"How many times have I heard you declare that before?" muttered an unsympathetic William. His brow furrowed as he lowered his head and tried to keep working, but the figure writhing pathetically in the corner of his vision was making it exceedingly hard to concentrate. "Don't you dare make a mess in my office. The lavatory is right there."

"I didn't say I was going to throw up, I just-"

Richard's voice hitched as his stomach churned.

"Ugh. Shit. Wait. Maybe I... ohh. I'll be right back."

He stood up, swaying slightly as he rose, then rushed over to a door next to William's desk. The door slammed heavily behind him as he entered the lavatory, and it only took a few moments for the sound of loud retching to begin echoing throughout the office.

William sighed, using his left hand to push his glasses up, as he attempted to keep writing.

"I might actually be dying, Will," moaned Richard's strained-sounding voice from the lavatory.

"You reap what you sow," snapped William in response. "Could you please die quietly? I'm trying to work."

"You'll regret saying that when I actually die!"

"You're not going to die."

"Everyone dies evental-ohh, Gods."

The unpleasant sounds continued, and William tried his hardest to block them out, pressing a hand to his forehead as he continued to write. It took a while, but the heaving eventually subsided, replaced by the sound of the toilet flushing. Soon, the only noise left coming from the door was the soft groaning of a hungover Richard.

"I think I'm gonna have to cancel my schedule for today, Will," he called out weakly.

William let out a soft huff of irritation as he put his fountain pen down.

"Stop calling me that. You don't even have a schedule today, you twit. It's Sunday. Gods above, is that why you came to bother me? You forgot your schedule?"

The door opened slowly, and a bleary-eyed Richard poked his head out.

"Yeah, 'cause I didn't write it down. It's Sunday? Really?" he asked, the confusion apparent on his face. "But I thought the party was-"

"Saturday. The party was Saturday. And what comes after Saturday?"

"... It's Sunday." Realisation dawned on Richard's face. "It's Sunday! I could have stayed in bed! Fuck!"

"It's not too late," William muttered, pushing his glasses up his nose again. "Go back to bed, Richard."

"You do not have to tell me twice. Ugh."

Richard trudged over to the doorway to leave William's office, then raised his hand loosely in a gesture that was almost a wave. He called out one last time as he left.

"Maybe you should stop working on a Sunday, yeah?"

The door closed behind him, and William let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. Finally, some peace and quiet.

He picked up the pen and got back to work.