In the morning, close to midday, John was already intoxicated and sitting alone at the table. He had been gazing at you with a foolish grin for a while as you carried out various tasks for the camp. Eventually, you approached, still focused on your work.

"Hey, lovely. Take it easy there. I don't want you to tire yourself out just yet," he flirted, pausing to wheeze with drunken laughter.

"But, Abigail," you scoffed, not paying much attention to John. Suddenly, he stood up slightly, wrapping his arms around your waist and forcefully pulling you onto his lap.

"Me and Abigail ain't married, y'know?"