First you take a drink, then the drink takes you.
He was sleeping, and Gael didn't like what she found. Ronan's dreams weren't dreams at all, but nightmares. They had been ever since he'd been sent that terrible place. She'd promised herself she wouldn't look in on them... that she would limit her interactions with Ronan in general, but strictly to their waking hours. However... his ragged appearance and restless body had nearly called out to her audibly. She stood at the foot of the bed they once shared and looked over his bent, sprawled form. The girl crawled up to lay near him, minding limbs, then slipped to sleep and joined him. The hellscape slowly began to fade away to something more tolerable: a mostly-empty pub.
He sat at the bar, and she was tending. "Another?" the Irish lass asked.