"Blood puddin'?"
She almost lost her stomach at the innocent question from the middle-aged matriarch of the bed and breakfast.
"No, thanks," she managed. "More coffee, please."
She ate gingerly, her head aching from both her hangover and her mental breakdown. She'd cried herself senseless before falling into a sleep too heavy to bring her any real rest. Five cups of coffee later and a full Irish breakfast --without the blood pudding --settling in her stomach, she still couldn't shake the throb. The breakfast room had cleared out an hour before, but the patient matriarch kept her coffee cup full and left her alone.
Because she looked like shit. She knew it. She wore a jumper that reeked of her own body odor. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her hair in a half-assed braid.
"I need to get some clothes," she said, turning to where the woman read her paper. "You know a cheap place around here?"
"Consignment store down the road."
"Thanks. I'll bring this back."
She carried the mug with her down the street to a store that smelled like an attic. The sun was too bright, the people around her too friendly. She sorted through the clothing, finding a pair of jeans, another pair of cargo pants, a scarf, and a few shirts. She paid the cashier with the remainder of her Euros and returned for a hot shower.
New clothes had never felt so nice, even if they were used! She wrapped the scarf around her neck and almost felt normal. The room was straightened and the fish removed, though the scent of them lingered.
The owner had left a bottle of painkiller and a snack on the nightstand, and Katie smiled at the first piece of thoughtfulness she'd received in what felt like a year. The whiskey she'd asked for. She downed her painkillers with a swig of alcohol. Before she could take another drink, Rhyn appeared out of nowhere and snatched the bottle from her.
"What is it with immortals and alcohol?"
He ignored her and tossed it out the opened window.
"My sister is expecting me to call and then to actually show up in DC in the next week."
"I don't give a fuck."
He looked her over and then strode to her again. She took a step back, but he only snatched the scarf and flung it, too, out the window.
"I don't need the reminder every time I look in the mirror!"
"Not for you. They'll leave you alone when they see it," he replied.