Aidan's eyes slowly opened. The scenario he'd constructed for Peter ran through his head automatically, every detail in place. But the blood he'd consumed was still there, too. He had backed away from drunk, tispy was a better word for what he was.
He'd forgotten why he hadn't been talking to anybody in the face of the horrible thing he'd done, and it didn't occur to him now that he was in no shape for company. The clothing he wore was rumpled, though clean at least. The garments from the night of... well, from that night, had disappeared. Aidan had no idea what he'd done with them. He'd have to search the apartment once more, though with a different task in mind.
Aidan pried himself off of the couch and rubbed at his face. His hair stuck up all over his head, and he didn't have the fortitude to check to make sure his fangs were away and his eyes were human. A large red crease from the couch's seam ran itself down his cheek.
He felt like he'd been swimming through jello, or had marinated his brain in jello... something to do with jello. When he opened the door and saw who was standing on the other side, it took Aidan a moment to do anything.
"Evey?" He finally said, unable to figure out why she was here, or if he'd even told her where he lived - he was sure he had to have. Considering the way things had been left, Aidan didn't even once consider it might be the Other Evey that had started his downward spiral.