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"Almost one."

"We have to be at work by five today." She rolled her eyes and dropped her head back to look up at the sky.

"Are we the college students or is it Maya? With all of us texting and wandering around at one in the morning?"

"Maybe both." She smirked and shrugged.

"I didn't know you were into…" I gestured behind us toward the club fading in the distance.

"I'm not."

"Looked like you were—"

"I'm not," she shot back, her glare cutting at best.

"Okay then." I held my hands up in surrender. "Don't get bent out of shape."

"If you say anything to anyone at work about—"

"Nora. Cool off already. I was also there tonight. But you already knew I was into that scene."

"I don't care what you're into—"

"You are not pleasant when you're drunk," I said, again, attempting to keep myself chill in her presence. "I won't say anything."

"I'm not drunk." She glared at me, pressing her fists tighter into the pockets of her jacket.

"Except you are though."

She rolled her eyes and turned sharply down a side street.

"Do you have your service weapon?" I asked her, and she shook her head. "Why not?"

"I don't feel the need to carry guns everywhere like the rest of you," she said, glancing at me again. "Especially when I've been drinking."

"So…you're saying you're drunk." I smirked when I said it.

"Fuck you." Her narrowed brow turned her eyes into smoldering shadows. "And you don't have to walk me home."

"Too late. You're not far from here." I pointed ahead of us.

"Neither are you."

"Truth."

We walked in silence after that. Nora's fatigue became evident in her slowed steps over time. The streets emptied as we made it further away from the busy area and more toward the residential district. It took a good twenty minutes before we made it to her place, and I walked her up the four flights of stairs.

By the time we made it to the top, her wooziness seemed to catch up with her while she struggled to unlock the door.

"Give it to me." I tugged the keys from her fingers and unlocked the deadbolts before the knob. Nora offered no fight after that, and I opened the door for her.

Again, she said nothing, rolling her shoulders out of her jacket before tossing it on the arm of the sofa. Unlike her office, which was always tidy, almost obsessively so, her small apartment didn't carry any of that flavor. Clothes littered the couch, dishes lay untended in the sink, and her bed, visible through the open door, wasn't made.

She held a finger up to me, her face blanching, before she bolted to the bathroom. The door slammed behind her and I listened to the sound of her retching.

"Not drunk," I muttered, shaking my head as I locked up behind me. "Totally sober. Must be food poisoning. Jackass." I pulled open her fridge in hope of revealing some ginger ale or something to give her after, only to find it completely empty save for a few random condiments. My brow furrowed, and I opened the freezer to see just ice.

Nora emerged from the bathroom, her face damp from washing, and she held a towel in her hands. She flopped down on the sofa, dropping her head back against the pillows. I joined her on it. When I turned to face her, a pair of pink panties poked out from between the cushions. I plucked them out, holding them up to her.