@qhsc / closed starter
If there was one word to describe Sandy at this moment, it would be exhausted. She felt it, she looked it; complete with deep bags beneath her half-lidded eyes and smeared makeup that looked well-worn. "So, like, asking for a friend: how much of this stuff would you have to drink to pass the fuck out?" Sandy's got a bottle of cheap beer raised to eye-level, a brow raised in question. She doesn't drink often. When she does, it's usually store-bought wine coolers with the prettiest picture on the box, so it's safe to say that she knows very little about anything liquor-related. Sandy raises tired eyes to Quinn, with red lips set in a thin line. "You know, hypothetically."















