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[Closed] Happy Hour ends at... when does it end again?

It had been several days since Nate and Sullivan woke up on the infirmary, with no idea how they'd found themselves there. Sully had tried to wave off the whole thing and keep on keeping on, but it was growing increasingly difficult with each passing day.

From the moment he'd awoken in the infirmary, Sully had been having flashes of... well, something... searing through his mind. Running through the streets of the city... Nate pointing a gun at him... looking scared and lost like the day they'd met. Blackness, lots of blackness. And then there were the readouts on the tablets in the infirmary nagging at him. "Recently deceased... ...Recovery ONE" ... what the hell was that supposed to mean? But he'd been doing all he could to not think about all of that. The important thing was that he and Nate were perfectly fine after whatever had gotten them hospitalized.

Spending time with Elena and Nate had been nice at first, it was good to see the two together, even if they had some things to work out. But there were a lot of unresolved things tugging at Victor's subconscious. It was rough having to explain things to Nate, dealing with the fact that he had no memory of the first couple of months he'd spent in Exsilium. Sully and Elena recounting what they could to him, and fighting his constant skepticism. It was particularly tough, because every moment spent with the kid caused the images to rise back up to the surface. Maybe a little time away from them, time to collect his thoughts would be good, would be helpful. He'd stayed in his apartment, playing solitaire or drinking... mostly drinking, for almost a week. He'd tried calling Chloe up, and leaving her a message now and again, when he was feeling in need of a friend.

He hadn't heard from her since the infirmary though, before then even. It was more than a little distressing. He was seriously beginning to worry about her.

Just one more bottle though, one more drink and I'll head out and find her, make sure she's alright.

He's been saying that for almost three days, for at least 16 bottles. He chugs down the last of the alcohol and plays with the empty bottle. Usually he can handle his booze pretty well, but he's hardly eaten over the past week, his color is off, his hair is slightly unkempt despite his daily bathing, his eyes are a little sunken. He's seen better days... But at least those haunting images haven't been popping up for a while. That's all that matters. Sully stands from the kitchen table, admiring his work; a modest pyramid of green beer bottles, topped with a few shot glasses. He slowly makes his way to his bedroom, still in disarray from Elena's searching nearly two weeks ago. As his balance falters, Victor plops down on the bed, conking his head on his tablet.

"Ah! Shit, son of a bitch that really smarts!"

He rubs his head in an attempt to soothe the pain and inspects the tablet. A message from Nate, and two from Elena... He contemplates for a moment listening to them, but decides against it. No, not now, not when he's been doing so good, no! He was almost in the clear, he clenches his eyes shut as tightly as he can, but it's no use. He's running down the streets, chasing after Nate. Yelling for him to slow down... Nate screaming at him to get away, pushing him away.... actively running from him, from Sully... A dark silhouette... Nate, shaking... pointing the gun at him.... blackness.

Sully's eyes fly open... Goddammit, I screwed this up... I need more alcohol or... something, anything. What he really needs is a little help from a friend. He glances at the tablet again, his eyes burning from being clenched shut. Maybe one more shot wouldn't hurt.

He grabs the tablet and activates his recent contact, last called. Chloe. She's not gonna answer... But she's okay, she's fine, she's strong. She's Chloe. She's fine..... she's not gonna answer.

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It's like crossing out names from a list. First Nate, then Charlie. Each one practically a triumph in terms of setting up barriers to ensure that no sane friend would so much as think about coming near her. It's for their own good, really. The only ones left are Victor and Elena, but those two, they're the hardest. Elena's all sense and logic and heart, the sort of genuine creature that doesn't tend to exist outside fantasy and fairy tales. And Victor? Victor would forgive the rain for falling and soaking him through so long as he considered it his friend. And she--

Well she got him and the most important person in his life killed, didn't she? They don't exactly make Hallmark cards for that, and with good reason.

But it's been nagging at her, dwelling on what he's been through-- what he's going through. She's burned enough bridges to start a forest fire, anyway. It can't hurt if this goes badly as well, so long as she knows he's doing all right. So she taps her knuckles against the front door of his flat. Isn't even sure if he's home.

Christ, Victor, please don't be home.

Having placed the tablet aside, he's decided to try and get some rest. His eyelids grow heavy, and his vision dims as he starts to slip into-but immediately he's snapped awake by the knocking.

Probably Nate... or Elena, come to check on me. I suppose I should have answered at least one message.

Victor slowly gets up from the bed, at least he can stand up now without drifting to one side or supporting himself against the wall. He straightens his clothes and heads for the door to look through the peephole. ...Chloe?! He perks up a bit and smooths out his hair and mustache. He starts to touch the knob when he looks over his shoulder at the evidence of the past few days and quickly rushes to clean it all up.

"Just a minute!! I uh... need to get on some pants!"

She'd see right through that one, since when has he ever cared about his pants or lack thereof when she's around? But it's too late to fix, so he quickly attempts to dismantle the bottle pyramid, removing the shot glasses from the top first. He rinses them and places them in the sink, then turns to face the pyramid, accidentally knocking one of the load bearing bottles just enough to cause the whole thing to wobble precariously.

"AWW SHIT!!"

Sully manages to catch about 8 bottles before the pyramid falls, crashing loudly, as some bottles plink together and others shatter from the fall. Well, that probably doesn't sound great from her end... He's able to get the bottles he'd caught into the trash can, and sweeps the glass shards from the table onto a place mat. As he dumps the shards into the trash he notices the side of his hand, from pinky to palm, is bleeding. In his feeble attempts to save the bottles, he must have sliced it on some of the shards or something. As soon as he spots it, the gash starts to sting, and he quickly rinses it in the sink.

Even thought his has all taken place in the span of about half a minute, Sully rushes to wrap his hand in paper towels so he can answer the door and not keep Chloe waiting for too long.

He finally turns the knob and opens the door, clearly flustered, but attempting to play it cool.

"Hey, I was beginning to wonder about you! Where have you been, sweetheart?"

Edited 2013-01-15 19:45 (UTC)

The attempt at being causal only makes things weirder, and it has very little to do with the fiasco behind his shut door. Chloe offers him the best smile she can force on, shrugs her shoulders before stuffing her hands in her pockets. Has no one told him?

No, they wouldn't, would they. Spare his heart the frustration of it, possibly.

"Just taking care of a few problems that wouldn't wait." God, he looks like hell. No surprise as to the why of that, but it stings to see him all bent around the edges regardless. "Bad time?"

A small chuckle escapes him as he backs from the door giving her space to enter. He's able to calm down a little, as he IS genuinely happy to see her. But had he a little more warning beforehand he would have cleaned up a bit more, or at least taken a breath mint... he could smell the beer on his lips and assumed that probably wasn't attractive. Nevertheless he beckons her in with his good hand.

"Not at all! I was just... cleaning up after my messy roommates. Actually, I was just about to get to the bedroom in case you came back."

He attempts to hide his poorly "bandaged" hand and heads over to the fridge.

"Can I get you a drink, sweetheart? We've got ... uh.. milk, and... water. Maybe another booze run will be in order soon, huh?"

Edited 2013-01-15 23:26 (UTC)

"Water's fine, thanks."

She brushes off a bit of glassy dust from the dining room chair. The color of it hints at what he's been trying to hide, but she doesn't press it, just sits down and watches the way he's moving, the subtle tucking of his hand behind his back. "I think we've both had enough of the harder stuff for a while, anyway."

He grabs a couple bottles of water in one hand and takes a seat across from her. As he slides one of the bottles over to her he laughs uncomfortably at her comment.

"Yeah, I've always been pretty good about knowing my limits. I'm more of a casual drinker anyway."

Keeping the bandaged hand in his lap, he plants his opposite elbow on the table as he takes a tiny sip from the water bottle. What he'd give for a few fingers of scotch right now...

"I think Nate and I might have overdone it on Christmas Eve though. Hah! We both woke up in the hospital on Christmas day, with no memory of the night before... must've been pretty goddamn wild..."

He smirks a little as he tries to gauge her reaction to that statement. By now Victor's almost entirely sure it wasn't a night of carefree drinking that landed them in the hospital, but no one's been able to confirm that for him. He thinks about prodding her a little bit, to see if she knows anything, but decides against it. Just being in the same room as her once more has been enough to keep the visions from coming back, maybe it would be best to play it casual at least a little while longer... for his sanity's sake.

If he's looking for a reaction, he gets one. Chloe frowns without thinking. Deeply, and genuinely, and with more regret than he'll likely manage to spot. She takes a long sip after breaking the seal on her bottle.

"Victor, darling, you have to know at least part of what landed you there, don't you? I mean, hasn't anyone..."

"Nope." He cuts her off, a pinch of bitterness in the gruff mumble. Not directed at her, not really directed at anyone really. But it's there, and Victor immediately wishes he could hide it.

"Nobody seems to know what happened. Nate and I don't seem to remember a huge gap of time there. The last thing I remember is a little of Elena's little housewarming shindig. Anything after that is either blank spots I can't account for, or ..."

He pauses, staring at a spot on the table in front of him. Staring so intently it's as if he's attempting to burn a hole in the surface with his eyes. He takes a sip of water and clears his throat, never looking away from that spot.

"...Or quick snippets of... a dream, I guess."

Oh, she catches it. Very little ever slips past Chloe's watch, even during the worst days, and she knows Victor's come back from more than he deserved to endure.

But before she carries on, it might be best to pick just a bit deeper.

"A dream?" Chloe follows the path of his gaze from the table up to his browline. The intensity is matched.

"What about, exactly?"

He winces slightly and sinks a little bit into his chair. He'd hoped to avoid this... but the second she asks about it the images start flooding back into his mind. He shuts his eyes as tightly as he can, as if trying to squeeze the visuals from his eyes themselves. It doesn't work... Now he just sees stars over them. With a long and labored sigh he finally answers.

"I don't... really know... really. It-It's... stupid. It means nothing."

But he knows she won't accept that... He knows she's not about to let him keep this to himself. So his face contorts into a look of extreme concentration as he slowly explains it all, as if trying to explain it to himself at the same time.

"It's just... like I'm running, through the streets-here, in Exsilium. I'm chasing Nate, but... he's not really Nate. I don't know, he's running from me like I'm out to get him, like I'm a monster."

He pauses and looks down at his lap... he can feel her eyes boring into him, and tries his best to avoid locking eyes with her.

"Or maybe I am one, I don't even know.... But I finally catch him, and he's practically screaming for me to let him go, there's fear and anger and I don't even know what else in his voice. I've never heard him like that. I can still hear it..."

He leans forward, plants his elbows on the table, finally, unintentionally revealing the bandaged hand to her, and rests his face in his hands as he attempts to convey the rest of the visions.

"He pushes me away forcefully, and I'm trying to talk him down, trying to snap him out of whatever's happening to him. He's just not himself, you know? ...Then this stranger steps out of the shadows, and I can't make out the face, it's just blurry. He says something to Nate... I can't remember at this point. But it makes things worse, makes Nate worse."

Before he can get to the next part, Sully feels his mouth go dry. He takes a sips from his water before clearing his throat and continuing. His gaze falls to rest on Chloe's necklace, he's not particularly interested in it, but at least he can observe her reaction to what he's saying and continue to avoid eye contact at the same time.

"Then suddenly he's got a gun in his hand, and he points it at me... His looking at me, looking scared and lost... ...Chloe..."

He looks up, finally meeting her gaze.

"Chloe, on the day I met Nate, he held a gun to me... He had the exact same look in his eye. Scared and lost. Those are the only two words I can think of to describe it. And in the dream, and I KNOW it's a dream at this point because Nate just wouldn't point a gun at me... he wouldn't... but in the dream, he becomes the kid I met 18 years ago... and then.... black. That's it..."

He looks back down to the spot on the table and picks at it with his good hand.

"I don't know... It's been sort of a recurring dream... since we woke in the hospital. I haven't really been spending as much time with Nate as I'd like to right now because I start seeing it again when I'm around him.... It just doesn't feel right. I... I... need a drink."

Oh Jesus, no. It's worse, far worse than she'd imagined-- though admittedly she'd been doing her best not to-- but for him having lived it, there's no shortage of shock or sympathy as he slowly taps out every detail that he can remember. It's work to keep her hands from settling against her lips.

Because Nate-- Nate was the one to--

"Shit," she breathes, finally clasping her hands in front of her and pressing the line of her profile against them. "Victor, listen, it's not your fault, okay? Just-- look, there's just something you should know..."

Honestly, Victor had sort of expected her to wave off the entire thing. He'd never really let anything bother him in this way, but Chloe seemed almost disturbed by his thoughts as well. All he really wanted was for her to say something like "Oh, Victor, it's just a dream. Little bit of your past come back to haunt you. Now, let me ease your mind with my feminine wiles." ...okay maybe not that exactly. But then she does speak, and it makes his heart sink just a little...

"My fault? Wait... what's not my fau-... ...Chloe... Sweetheart, what is it?"

A combination of annoyance and fear wells up inside of him. So there IS something they're not telling me... Goddammit, what the hell is going on? Suddenly he feels like vomiting. His body and mind join together in a state of unease as he leans forward, intent on hearing what she has to say.

No amount of uneasiness on his part could possibly dissuade her from getting the truth out now; not after what happened last time. Even if she would prefer to spare him the pain of it-- even if she'd rather not consider the consequences. Chloe unfolds her fingers, sets her palms flat on the table.

"That wasn't a dream."

So he was sort of expecting this... although it's far from what he wants to hear. He tries to mull it over in his head, to see if it makes the images and visions any clearer, but it only makes his headache come back in full force. It still catches him off guard, his mouth agape, his throat immediately dry, but he can't bring himself to take a drink... he can hardly move at all really. So Victor stares at her incredulously, waiting for any sign that she may be yanking his chain. Nothing... Finally he finds himself able to produce sound.

"I-...Bu-... how-why? ..."

Edited 2013-01-21 19:17 (UTC)

The how and why are trickier to explain. Not just because of guilt, but more importantly, the fact that he's barely hanging on as it is without this kind of weight dropped on his shoulders. Facts first, details later; let him swallow the big picture and the rest won't overwhelm nearly as much.

"This place isn't really happy with the idea of letting us die off permanently. If we go, it brings us back." There's a beat before she adds, gently, "You came back."

His brow furrows at what she's implying, he continues to eye her as if she might still reveal that it's all a joke. But he's almost entirely positive it's all past that point. Victor manages to take a drink as he's reminded of the hospital and the things he read there causing him to contemplate aloud.

"Well... that... explains the readout on the tablets in the infirmary... But that would mean... Chloe, did Nate die too? How IS he?! Is he alright?!"

He's about ready to jump out of his chair before he realizes how ridiculous he's being. Of course he's alright, I saw him with my own goddamn eyes, we must have come back together... He eases himself and straightens up, his mind still racing but his body relatively less tense.

"Sorry, uh... how did I... did we... What happened to us?"

It's unintentional, but he gives her a pleading look. Confusion, fear, are clear in his eyes, as if he's begging her to make sense of all of this. Victor Sullivan has been called many things in his lifetime-but never vulnerable... until this moment.

And that vulnerability, to someone like Chloe, is equal parts heartbreaking and terrifying. Fragile as he is, it's like holding crystal, and if not for her attachment-- if not for what she owes-- she'd be putting it down and walking right out of the store rather than risk breaking it.

But it's Victor, and Christ, no matter what urges she might have to bolt, she stays. Steadies herself. Keeps trying to think of how best to deliver the worst news of his life.

"I wasn't there." Saying it feels like a shot to the chest, even a month later. Because she's never really spoken it-- admitted it-- out loud. Not until this point. "Seems like you know more details than I do, given what you've been dreaming about."

Chloe curls her fingers, absently taps them against the table's edge. "But I know what happened to Nate."

In a moment of frustration he curses and slams his bad fist down on the table. A sharp pain shoots to his shoulder and his hand throbs.

"GODDamm... ...sorry..."

He steels himself, none of that was directed at her, he certainly didn't intend to make her think he was mad at her. But he was so close to getting the answers... He looks down at the table again, thinking it all through. Obviously he knows what happened to him... he's been in denial. He's refused to accept that an iota of those "dreams" could actually be real. But with Chloe's confirmation it's hard to continue being stubborn. He has to accept it...

"So... Nate... shot me?"

The thought of it almost causes him to miss her last couple of words. Sully clutches at his shirt over his heart... for a moment it feels as though it's been ripped from him, he can't explain it, but he's torn between relief and sadness. And then her words reach him... He looks back to her, almost afraid to ask her...

"What... what happened to him?"

"He was--" What, 'mind controlled'? 'Used'? How does anyone even begin to describe what goes on when the Order's insane nonsense is involved? Everything feels like oversimplification on a gross scale.

"He was drugged, Victor. They had control of his mind when he shot you."

He winces at those last four words... They weigh heavily on his heart, but Victor isn't sure what to think of them. Is he supposed to be angry? Sad? Feel betrayed or crushed? He thinks for a moment, maybe it'll come to him, but his mind is foggy. Densely populated with questions. After forcing himself to focus on what Chloe DOES know, one of them starts to stand out.

"...'They'? Who's 'they'? The Initiative?"

And at that thought, he starts to feel his blood boil. Anger, of course. That's what I should be feeling. It wasn't Nate's fault, there's no way in hell it could've been... Kidnapping, imprisonment, yeah, why NOT this? What else could the Initiative be capable of?

Right, there it is. The misguided surge of emotion that she'd been waiting for. It's only natural, but without the full picture, it's...well, it's not doing him any favors. Nothing to do but cut it off at the root and leave no room for misinterpretation.

"Katherine Marlowe's agent, Talbot." The words feel heavy on her tongue, hard to pronounce and slow to come out. It was Victor that had told her Marlowe's full name, feels almost like a betrayal to have to wound him with information he himself supplied.

Immediately he feels a chill at the back of his neck when he hears her name.

"What? She's here TOO? SHIT!"

After all this time... she must still be after the ring... Is she... is her order the "Initiative"?

"Is she behind ALL of this?"

He gestures to the room, everything around him. He didn't imagine she'd be capable of all of this, but then again... he wasn't really sure just what she was capable of to begin with. The thought of her being here, of being within her icy cold grasp brings a heavy feeling to the pit of his stomach. If she's here, that means Nate's not safe, but that was already very apparent. Still, if she's after him even after 20 years... Victor shakes his head slightly to regain focus.

"I don't know a Talbot, but if Kate's here, if her Order... Chloe we have to... she's.."

He exhales sharply and slumps back in his chair.

"She's not."

It's a flat, dim response to his anger and fear, but keeping calm while he's struggling means she's better equipped to ground him. "He is, though. Has been for a long time-- around when I'd first asked you about the Order."

It takes her a moment to add on the actual confession. "Which was why I'd asked."

His brow raises slowly as he decides that he did, in fact, hear her right.

"Wait, so ... you knew about this?"

In that moment he feels his face grow hot again, it feels like anger, and he almost wants it to be anger. He wants to be mad at her, because he was under the impression that he could trust her. But now... he's not so sure. Maybe he's going soft, maybe he's just tired, but Victor just can't bring himself to direct his anger at her.

"Chloe, ... Why didn't you tell me, THEN. When you ASKED me. Why NOT then, when I could have been able to do something more than let Nate and I be sitting ducks! Why didn't you say anything then!"

And suddenly he can hear that his voice is raised, see that he's standing practically over her, the table being the only thing keeping him somewhat distanced from her. He feels a slight sting of guilt for coming at her like this, and in his mind he sits back down, apologizes... But he's still standing, looking down at her, waiting for her to explain.

Edited 2013-01-29 19:58 (UTC)

She goes rigid when he does, the line of her mouth going thin as the crease in her brow deepens by comparison. It's hard-- impossibly hard-- to say why something's been done long after the decision was made, even more so when it was ultimately a poor one. Still, Chloe's not defensive about it, not to Victor, of all people. He has no reason to back down; she has no right to ask.

"You didn't know. Neither of you did," Chloe starts, still just as steady as before. "With only one of her agents in play and the both of you genuinely in the dark, it made it easy to draw a line and set up a truce. Which I did."

Because she did. She made the call, pressed the idea, pressured Charlie into going along with it. Hell, even Elena knew by the end of things, and she'd been the one to warn her-- but never Nate, never Victor. Never the two that needed it most, really.

"Well... THAT went well for all of us."

He mentally claps his hands to his mouth, that just slipped out... He meant the words, but not to say them aloud. He clenches his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to keep from making things worse. He sighs a heavy, frustrated sigh and finally sits back down.

"Chloe, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just.... goddamn, a lot to take in."

What he'd give for another couple of drinks right now. Victor stares her down for a little while, silence becoming audible as he mulls the situation over.

Well... what's done is done. If she's right, and there is only one agent.... with everyone on the same page we could easily take him. She needed an omelet, and Nate and I were the eggs that needed to be broken apparently...

His anger finally begins to subside as he places his hands on the table and leans in toward her.

"Chloe, you shouldn't have kept that information from us, from me... But, I understand why you did it, why it felt like the right thing to do. I can't hold it against you, for all I know I would have done the same damned thing. It doesn't matter now though, it's done, and luckily, Nate and I are still around."

He reaches across the table and gently clasps his hands around hers.

"Don't let it happen again, sweetheart."

He means for this to come across warm and friendly, but instead his features remain stern, and cold.

"That won't be a problem."

The look on his face is what turns the warmth of his fingers to ice over hers, makes her want to recoil and draw back away from his touch-- away from the whole bloody apartment. She's completely rigid, her fingers don't curl around his own to comfort or offer sympathy; regardless of what she's done, the forgiveness he's barely managed to bring himself to offer, or how much she tries to force herself to move, there's absolutely no response.

The stillness is painfully awkward.

It takes a few moments, but Sully realizes he's not being terribly convincing. Chloe certainly isn't being as responsive, and it's obvious he's the problem. He rubs his thumb back and forth across her palm as he observes her.

"I'm really.... I'm sorry, sweetheart. Chloe, I don't want you to think I'm angry at you. I promise, I'm not. It's just, well, I don't know... finding out you were shot by the person closest to you, killed.... DIED.... and come back? It takes a lot out of you. It took a lot out of ME. So I apologize if I'm not... the most rational goddamn guy out there right now. I just need a little time to work things through in my head, if that makes sense."

He looks to her, almost pleadingly. Warmth finally returning to his face, to his body language. He let's her hand go gently and rest his back against his chair.

"I want to thank you, Chloe. You're the first person who's been straight with me since Nate and I have ... well, come back. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that."

"Don't think you deserve anything less." And she means it when she says it, which is as much of an acknowledgment of how she regrets keeping it from him as she can manage without driving the subject back around to what's already been discussed. She's still got her fingers curled up over the edge of the table, but without the weight of his touch she feels less constricted, more free to give the apartment another once over-- and consider his bleeding hand.

"Where is Nate, anyway?"

Sully lets out a shaky sigh before answering. But decides that he owes her some honesty in return for her own.

"He's probably at the library with Elena... They're researching the Initiative, trying to find out more about them. I promised to join them, but that was ... well a week or two ago."

He rubbed the bandaged hand with his good fingertips absentmindedly, hanging his head a bit. "To be honest though, I've kinda been avoiding making good on that promise. Being around him with all those images in my head was making me uncomfortable. It was hard to be around him. So I just shut myself in, I guess. Alcohol seemed to help a little bit." He hangs his head further as he admits that, then adds, in a barely audible mumble, "...though, I may have overdone it..."

"Just a bit."

So they really do mean to dig into the heart of this place. Much faith as she has in them she doubts they'll succeed. Doesn't really want them to, anyway.

She should go. The truth's been laid out and Victor can start healing, which means she's got no reason left to be here. No right to. But even so, she doesn't budge, just stares at the mess he's in wondering if he'll shut down again the moment she walks out the door.

"When was the last time you slept, darling?"

Victor laughs, a genuine chuckle. He's definitely tired, but if he sleeps now, who knows when he'll see Chloe again. Right now, she's kept him distracted from Nate - from himself really.

"I honestly don't know, I've caught a few winks here and there... Nothing particularly solid though. My head made damned sure of that. Why? Is it obvious? I haven't even looked in a mirror lately, I'm sure I look like hell..."

He quickly attempts to smooth his hair and mustache, straightens his shirt... verifies he is, in fact, wearing pants.

It's hard to keep the trace of a smile from tugging at her lips when he starts fussing over himself as always. Bloody impossible, that man.

"Oh, it's not so bad." Chloe says, climbing to her feet and moving to run her fingers through the tangled mess that is Victor's hair. "But I think you could do with a solid nap, yeah."

He calms down a little bit, trusting her judgement. There's something about Chloe that he can't quite wrap his head around; he doesn't feel like he has to impress her or put up a front, part of it is that she always sees straight through it, he can be himself with her they way he is with Nate and Elena, except... no, it's not the same. Something's different... it isn't something he's used to with the ladies, but he can't say he doesn't like it at least a little bit.

As she runs her fingers through his hair he releases a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and didn't know for how long he had been. He feels a faint shiver run the length of his spine before he looks up to her.

"You're probably right, sweetheart. Though, I'm feeling a little better already, thanks to you."

He reaches for her hand and pulls it to his lips, softly kissing the back of her hand. He starts to say something, but stops himself, continuing to hold her hand in his until he's ready to try again.

"You know, you're welcome to stay... again. You don't have to leave if you're not busy. It could be nice to have someone there should I wake up from another damned bad dream."

He lets go of her hand and drops his to the back of her thigh, gently pulling her standing form towards where he sits, and giving her a weak, yet hopeful smile.

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[Closed] Happy Hour ends at... when does it end again?

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