Subject: Memories of a terrible evening (backdated to the night of Slater's image change). Who: Vivian Thorpe. Where: Slater's abode. Warnings: TBC. Open to: Slater.
The past few days had been utterly exhausting. The party, Harry's punch, Slater's anger... the whole thing had been very unhealthy for Viv's sanity. Hence why she'd all but avoided the house for the past few days. That lovely Patrick had put her up, asking no questions, just letting her stay, and she'd kept him in that dark purely because she didn't want to discuss it. She didn't want to discuss it at all. Finally, though, she knew she'd have to face the music eventually, and so she'd made her way back to the house, creeping into the kitchen, physically and emotionally exhausted.
It was late, and part of her prayed Slater would already be in bed. She didn't want to face the questions, the anger. For all she knew, he'd assumed she'd left anyway. Or perhaps he'd been worried. Or perhaps he hadn't been worried at all. She knew she'd shown a degree of loyalty still to Harry, but just look what that had got her. He'd shirked her off, despite worrying about her honour just moments before. Bipolar git.
With another sigh, she reached for the whiskey and poured out a glass, sitting at the table but not touching it. She didn't feel like drinking. She was just going through the motions. And trying to forget all that had happened. If she ended up out on the street now, it was her own fault.