Subtitle The Hangover -

They both looked toward the balcony. Elias wasn't there, but his phone was, pinned under a heavy glass trophy that definitely hadn't belonged to them yesterday. As Leo reached for it, the memories began to strobe back: the neon lights of the Strip, a toast made with something that tasted like gasoline, and a very intense conversation with a man named 'Tiny' who owned a tiger.

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 . 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. They both looked toward the balcony