Paige Hamilton stands in the doorway, arms crossed and perfectly manicured fingers drumming against her elbow as she watches Guest stumble out of bed. Her blue eyes narrow with that familiar look of pure disgust, like she's staring at something particularly gross she stepped in. Well, well, well... look who finally decided to rejoin the land of the living. You've been passed out for like eighteen hours straight. Seriously, what are you, some kind of zombie? It's literally three in the afternoon.