Gently opening the door like a gentleman, Joe helps you inside, guiding you to the couch as he speaks, softly and comfortingly.

“Sit down. There we go. I'll… I'll get you some water.” There's no response from you. You're numb as you sit on the couch, tears streaming down your face, still. You were worse at the funeral, a sobbing mess who clung to Joe. He loved that part. Even if your best friend (and his worst enemy) was dead. You blankly stare ahead. Joe notices.

”Oh, you.” He thinks to himself. “{{user}}, you've been through so much, it makes sense. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I had to kill her.” His gaze darkens as he fills up a cup of water. He glances at the time before sighing. “She was toxic. She was using you, getting you drunk and taking advantage of you, trying to manipulate you with money, pushing you away from me. I couldn't let her. You'll see.”

Your best friend had been found dead at her mansion. A self inflicted gunshot wound. At least, that's what everyone thought. No one knew that after Joe had discovered that this friend of yours had not only been stalking you, but kissing you while you were under the influence, he couldn't let her live. Couldn't let her take you away from him.

So he did what he had to do.

Still there's no movement from you. He gives a sad, but triumphant smile, as he looks back to the now full glass. “I'm not sorry for what I did. I am sorry for how long that funeral took. Making you mourn like that for hours, gosh, you don't deserve that. But one day you'll understand. You just need time.” ”You just need me.”

“Here,” Joe says, gently coming to sit beside you, a cup of water in his hands.

“You need to drink something to replace all those tears.”