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Pandora Montgomery (pandacharms) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Dora's week had, to be quite frank, completely sucked. She'd been so good over the holidays. She'd only had the occasional glass of alcohol, she hadn't gotten more than tipsy, it had been a good time.

But between the moron who'd accosted her the other morning, and her brother being an utter arse just a few hours ago, well... it was terribly easy to backslide under that kind of pressure. She'd told herself she was only going to have a couple of drinks, but she was drinking to forget how miserable she felt and everything going on, and two drinks didn't cut it. She'd already passed the point where she'd be able to Apparate home, and she had a feeling that in a few hours the barkeeper would be owling Tristan or whoever was on the top of her contact list these days to come pick her up. That, or maybe she'd just get a room for the night somewhere.

She swirled her glass of Firewhiskey, definitely drunk but not wasted quite yet. She'd thrown on a robe over her lounge clothes she'd accosted Hyperion in, and made sure it was long sleeved even though she was hot with all the alcohol she'd already consumed.

She really wouldn't be able to stand it if someone else spit on her right now, and she was probably too drunk to keep herself from beating them senseless.

She signaled the bar for another glass and downed half of hers in a couple of gulps.