Who: George and Patrick What: Dealing with guilt in their own (bad) ways When: The weekend Where: Their apartment
George lay on the couch with an icepack over his left eye, contemplating the ceiling and scratching Downpatrick's ears gently. His trip to War had been cathartic; she had always been good at finding ways to relieve stress through gratituous violence. Their night of picking fights with the underbelly of New York had been bloody, brutal, and she had punched George in the face at one point.
It had been just what he'd needed.
Downpatrick barked happily, and George heard the sound of someone fumbling with the door before Patrick stumbled in. George could smell alcohol and stale sweat even from across the room, and he let the icepack thunk against his head with a sigh. Then he sat up.