Cold November Rain Who: Ana, Cath, and Gabe What: Commiserating and flirting When: 11.17.12 - Saturday Night Where: Dead Until Dark Warning: Relationship angst
Dead Until Dark had become Cathair's sanctuary the past couple of days. He'd been drowning his sorrows in whiskey for more days he wanted to admit. Tonight he was settled at the bar, drinking Connemara and keeping Gabe company. The werebear had wisely left the bottle. It wasn't as if Cathair couldn't pay his tab.
He was trying not to think about Annie. It had been six days now and no word from her. Cathair hated to admit he still jumped every time he though he felt his cellular jiggle. Nothing. He didn't know what was more depressing. The fact he hadn't given up or the fact she hadn't even texted him to say goodbye.
"I should likely eat something," he mused to Gabe. Nothing appealed. All of the foods he'd been given as a child for comfort weren't on the pub's menu. He couldn't cook, Annie had always been the one who made sure he ate properly. He'd been getting takeaway for the last few days, except the bit of time he was at his cousins. "Don't suppose your cook could make decent fish and chips?" It was something, at least.