"It would be between me and Patrick if he'd answer his phone or check his computer," Famine muttered. She shrugged. "I'm fine. I mean, it's not like I followed him to Ireland, took care of him, and made sure he didn't wander off a cliff while blitzed out of his mind. It's not like I came over to his house when Clio died, and sat with him all night until he finally fell asleep. He wants to start shit, but he can't finish it and now he's avoiding me and hiding from the consequences of his actions. I'm pissed, and I can't even get a straight answer as to whether or not he's doing alright."
She skipped the glass entirely this time, pulling straight from the bottle instead. "It's not like the only friend I've ever had isn't talking to me. But apart from that, I'm fine."