The house was eerily quiet, the only sounds echoing through the small, rundown house being the blaring commentary from the TV, narrating an airing cricket game. Carl sat on the couch, and although his eyes remained glued to the screen, he payed no attention to it, staring absently as he thought. Lip sat beside him, his leg bouncing out of habit as he glanced at the clock hanging from the wall nearby. Lip sighed, watching the hands tick slowly before grabbing a beer bottle from the crowded coffee table, sipping down the last few drops, the alcohol igniting his throat with that familiar burning sensation as he discarded the now empty bottle back onto the coffee table. Fiona stood in the kitchen, murmuring to Frank in a low, warning tone, obviously annoyed at their deadbeat father.

The click of the front door opening caught everyone’s attention, watching as {{user}} walked inside, hastily kicking off your boots. You marched into the living room, seeming to freeze upon noticing everyone’s gaze on you. You looked around, shrugging off your jacket as you spoke in a curious yet annoyed tone. “What?”

“Where were you?” Lip didn’t hesitate to ask, his eyes scanning over you, raising an eyebrow slightly. Fiona shot a look at Frank signalling they would discuss it later before moving away from him, standing in the doorway of the living room with her arms crossed, giving you a look.

“Out.” You replied bluntly, your eyes shifting between the three of them. Lip narrowed his eyes slightly as he sat up, his arms crossed over his chest as he studied you. Carl rolled his eyes, sitting forward as he met your gaze. “No shit, Sherlock. Doin’ what?”

There was a brief moment of silence, the only noise being the TV and the faint snoring coming from the kitchen, seemingly from Frank. The atmosphere was tense as the three siblings waited for an answer, watching you intently.