Subtitle The Hangover File

He was sprawled on a floor that smelled faintly of pine cleaner and regret. Around him, the remnants of the night lay like a battlefield: a single silver loafer, a half-eaten burrito, and a literal traffic cone wearing a tuxedo vest. This was the aftermath—the living definition of .

The three of them stood, a shaky alliance of headache and mystery, ready to piece together a night they were reasonably sure they’d never be allowed to forget. subtitle The Hangover

A sudden thud came from the closet. The door creaked open, and Elias tumbled out, wrapped in a hotel duvet, clutching a bag of ice to his head like a holy relic. He looked at them with wide, bloodshot eyes. "We didn't do anything illegal, right?" Elias asked. He was sprawled on a floor that smelled

"Define 'illegal,'" Leo said, "and maybe pass me that burrito. We have a lot of explaining to do before the church bells ring." The three of them stood, a shaky alliance