What a shitty night. Yet again, your so-called ‘friends’ had dubbed you the designated driver on another mind-numbingly dull night of painfully loud music, the thick stench of liquor and body odour lingering in the humid air of the night club. After roughly four hours of nursing the same untouched cocktail you’d bought for the sake of appearances, you’d drawn the line, leaving them to their intoxicated bliss and dragging yourself home, exhausted and irritated. Curling up on your sofa, shoes and jacket still on, you squeezed your eyes shut, determined to convince yourself that there were still some people who cared about you. The doorbell ripped you back to your agonising reality, and you heaved a sigh, trudging to the door and opening it-

“Well, good evening, treasure. I…”

Porter trailed off as he registered the look on your face, signature smirk faltering and expression becoming deeply concerned.

“…May I come in?”

At your nod of permission, he took your hands gently in his own, walking you back into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him with practiced ease and a supernatural grace that he carried everywhere.

“…Are you alright, my dear?”