It wasn't like Christov to be checking out girls in bars, but he couldn't help it. Every time he thought about what he was doing, he assured himself that it was just out of interest, to see what she was like - there was no connection. He studied her, slumped over a table with a small glass, now empty, alongside a bottle of whiskey, also empty.
It wasn't like Christov to spend all night in a bar either. He blamed his job; it looked like he was about to get the sack since his skills weren't up to date. So his first plan was to have a quick drink to get some dutch courage then tell his boss that he was a capable of so much more. The only problem was that he hadn't made it away from the drink, slowly spending what little money he had and going nowhere in terms of earning it back.
As the light started to filter through the windows, he decided it was time to start making his way back, through the empty streets to a house that wasn't a home. But first, he thought he'd check if that girl was alright. Before he said a word, she moved slightly.
She had slept with her elbows on the table and her hands supporting her head, letting her hair drop loosely down. It had a slightly greasy quality to it, yet somehow it still looked beautiful. As she lifted her head up, the hair fell over her face only to be swept away by a flick of her hand.
For someone who had been drinking for a lot of the previous night (and the one before that come to think of it), Corinne felt reasonably good. She could stand up on her own, without the support of anything, could walk in a straight (ish) line and didn't feel too dizzy. As she made her way to the exit, she held back the little bit of sickness that she could feel at the back of her throat and smiled at the bartender, cloth draped over his arm like a waiter at a fancy restaurant.
She had reached the doors when she noticed Christov staring at her.
"Hey! What do you want?"
"Sorry." was all he could muster, stepping forwards until he came level with her.
"Are you alright? You had a lot."
"Well aren't you the gentleman!"
Then the alcohol started to show.
She quickly moved towards him and kissed him before stepping backwards through the saloon doors and into the world outside. Christov didn't know how to react.
"Don't worry. She's done that to all of us now." It was the bartender, muttering in a gruff voice.
Christov nodded and exhaled slowly. It was going to be a long day. But first he had something more important to worry about.
How was he going to explain this to his wife?