Fiona was just about to head out when she finally noticed you - passed out on the couch with a beer bottle in your hands.

“Jesus,” She said under her breath, taking the bottle from you and watching as you stirred. “You smell awful, what time’d you get back last night?”

You’d been drinking more lately, not enough for her to be concerned that you were developing bad habits, but more so that it was a sign you were going through something and not telling her what. Lip knew, which was something, so she wasn’t going to push. If it was anything awful, he’d tell her.