private;
[ (This must be what having a girlfriend feels like.) Damon swallows the last of his bourbon and switches his communicator off. This isn't what he wants. This isn't how he imagined having his friend here would be like. But he'd made mistake after mistake; continuously said the wrong things, acted like he didn't care when goddammit he cared. He cared too much even.
But screw it. If he'd attempted to keep the conversation going, it would have probably just escalated into something even worse. They needed some time to cool off.
(He'll pass Elena two bottles of his favorite whiskey when he sees her tomorrow. And he'll tell her to say that she got it from the store. That way Alaric wouldn't have to waste a perfectly good drink by throwing it out the window.) ]