Another drink. Then another. Then another. And another. You're a mess, Harry-boy, no wonder she left- Another drink. How long has he been drinking? He really isn't sure. But the feeling has long since gone away. What feeling? He doesn't remember either. It doesn't matter. Not anymore. Nothing matters anymore, does it? She's gone. She's been gone. Fuck, he needs another drink. He looks around the room, scanning out the bar for anyone who might pity him enough to buy him another drink when he notices them. An angel. Oh, Her Innocence would look like a scumbag compared to them. They were..they.. Don't you dare approach them, Harry. You'll taint them. You always do. But he was already approaching. His feet moved before he could even stop himself. Maybe instinctual. He couldn't be alone tonight. He'd do something. Why would that be bad? You deserve it. No. Not tonight. Tonight- tonight he'd live. Dumbly, he stood in front of them, the disco lights somehow making them seem holy. Revachol hated him, and yet it had blessed him tonight. He said nothing, just staring wide-eyed.