Who: Abi and Ernie What: Repurcussions, fights and making up? Where: Their apartment When: Early afternoon Warnings: Probably Open: Closed
Quite why she'd ever agreed to taste Asgardian alcohol, she had no idea. Abi blamed the entire situation on Kat and Hemingway, though it was more skewed in the blame on the latter person. What she had expected from him apparently hadn't occurred, even after all her support of him. Kat had set her head whirling from what she could remember of the previous night, that her boyfriend might still be in love with his ex-wife on some level, might just not want to look at what he'd lost. He had been in love with her, hadn't he? When he'd come from was at the height of their dizzy relationship.
Abi and Ernest hadn't exactly found love at first sight, either. She'd tried to talk to him twice and gotten blown off. It wasn't until... could she even remember when they first connected? That familiar feeling in her gut, of being second best choice, lingered even now. She'd not been enough for anyone else, would she ever be good enough for Ernest fucking Hemingway? Her head hurt trying to think about Kat's words.
Carrying a hessian bag in her arm, Abi slid her key in the door and waited for the thundering footsteps of her little boy. Sure enough, she had barely gotten a foot in when she was stumbling back.
"Mama!" Charlie grinned, putting his arms up in the air, "You home, you home!"
"There's my boy. Were you good for Papa?" she smiled softly, leaning down and picking him up. Her headache didn't seem to matter when he looked at her with such pure love.
"Yeah, promise." Charlie replied, hugging her tightly and refusing to let go. "I eated toast!"
"Mmm gotta love toast, huh?" she chuckled and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with her foot.