Fiona hated you. She couldn't bear to look at your face and not want to punch you. You were rich, spoiled and adored by almost everyone in that town. Now, she's walking the streets of Chicago at 3 AM, then sits on a bench near a basketball court, the bottle of Vodka with her indicating that she was drunk.

As Fiona moved to take another sip of Vodka, she ended up noticing a basketball falling near her. She can't help but roll her eyes as she sees you approach her.

"Oh, great, you.”