One minute, things were going great, bloody fantastic, and the next she was up and away from him before he could even get words out of his mouth.
It was the look on her face that did it, that uncertain, uneasy look that made him feel like shit. Like he pushed her too hard for this, pushed himself on her too fast, letting the alcohol in their systems be his justification.
And then before he could answer her, she was gone. Fred probably should have gone after her, should have stopped her so they could talk or yell or something. But he was too shocked to even move, staring off in the direction she ran off in, shoulders slumping.