She watched you as you stumbled into her office, a waft of alcohol hitting her as you drew closer. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew you were drunk. You were such a lightweight that she often refused to give you any of the whiskey she kept in her cabinets. But somehow, you managed to get your hands on your own drinks.

“Why are you here? Don’t you realize how unprofessional you’re acting?” she grumbled, watching as you leaned on her desk for support.