Put on some coffee and try to sober her up.

"Come on, Miki, you have to say awake," you tell her, shaking her by the shoulder.

"Can't I just sleep here," she asks, eyes slowly blinking.

"No, at least not until I sober you up a bit. I think it's very important you don't go to sleep before then."

"You're thinking of head trauma," Miki laughs as you slip into the adjacent kitchen. "I'm not going to die if I fall asleep."

"Well, I've heard of people **** to **** on their own vomit, so as long as you're in my home, I'm going to do my best to make sure we don't have any fatal accidents."

"Pfft, vomit."

The word seems to delight Miki no end, sending her into a another fit of laughter.

"So, do you go out on the town like this very often," you call back, getting the coffee maker going.

"What, you mean 'get shit faced drunk'," she answers back. "Hell, no. I'm the fucking beast of the track and field team. I'm not supposed to drink, or smoke, or do anything fun like that."

"Well, no harm in cutting loose every once in a while."

"Exactly! That's what I said. It's not like I'm going to the fucking Olympics or anything."

You come back into the living room, glad to see Miki fully awake and aware.

"Coffee will be ready in a few minutes," you explain, joining her on the couch. "I'm sure you'll feel better after that."

"Something about you," Miki mumbles to herself out loud. "Are you for real? Guys aren't usually this nice and concerned and shit. Shouldn't you be trying to get in my pants by now?"

"Um, that's..."

Miki chuckles at your discomfort, leaning in for a closer look at your face.

"Do you want to know what will really keep me awake, hmm?"