{ W h o } Rémy and Louise. { W h a t } Aftermath of this. Someone has some explaining to do. { W h e n } Wednesday afternoon. { W h e r e } Louise's trailer. { R a t i n g } PG? { S t a t u s } In progress.
Rémy wasn't sure what had happened last Sunday night, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know. All he knew was that one minute, he was wasted and sucking leftover champagne out of abandoned bottles, and the next, he was waking up in Louise's trailer with an eyeful of boob and a headache that felt as though his brain was trying to claw its way out through his eye sockets. He could recall only snippets - Louise helping him up off the ground, stumbling to her trailer beneath the stars, then kissing her after drinking even more inside said trailer. That was about as much as he could recall, and he wasn't sure if any of the blank spots he couldn't involved him either [a] making an absolute fool of himself or [b] being an asshole, so he'd figured that the best thing to do was probably to apologise, just in case. He didn't want her to think he was just playing shy to get under her skirt, or that he regularly took advantage of girls who had been drinking, or... or... whatever other horrible things he might have done while inebriated. He wasn't sure what. Mercifully, at least he'd woken up with his pants still on.
On the afternoon after their arrival in Salem, Rémy headed to her trailer, fully prepared to grovel for forgiveness if he had to. He arrived bearing gifts, just in case. Standing in the drizzle, raincoat hood pulled up over his head, he stood at her door, raised his hand to knock, then hesitated.
Okay, deep breath, Rémy, deep breath... he said to himself.