Mary Campbell and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Wes felt like he was stuck in a rut. Ever since Faith left, and she still hadn't come home, he felt like there was a gaping hole in his life. He tried to fill it with alcohol, but the effect wasn't quite what he wanted. That didn't stop him from trying.
He had had too much to drink already. The alcohol combined with the sun and the energy of the crowd probably wasn't a good idea. He didn't care. At least, not until he was heaving and retching, throwing up mere feet away from Mary. He didn't know her, but he knew she was there. And he felt bad for it, but what could he do?
He wiped his hand across his mouth and glanced over at her. "Terribly sorry," he said. He probably reeked of beer. "The sun and I don't get along." He'd blame the heat and hope that was enough of a reason for his puking.