He watched her. His eyes feral. She emptied glass after glass with ease. The darkness of the corner didn't allow her to see him. She was angry. He was worried. She used the alcohol to drown her anger. He just watched her to drown his concern. Again, she ordered another round, again she emptied it with ease. Again, the waitress came to ask him if he wanted something to drink. Again, he said no. All he wanted was to watch her, to see her anger, her pain, her face. To study her. He followed her here after something happened to her. He didn't know what, but Alenko stormed out of her room, angry. Moments later she stormed out too, angry and crying. He knew she would be here, like she always was. He knew. He followed her into the darkness unable to control his body, his legs moving on their own accord. He knew he was becoming a stalker. But he couldn't help himself.

She drank and drank, and after what felt like hours, she stood up. He watched her as she stumbled to the bar to pay for her drinks. Then he watched her as she stumbled away to the exit. He kept his eyes on hers in hope she would see him. But she didn't. She just kept walking. Then she left the bar, and again his legs moved on their own. He followed the path she took seconds ago. He could see her in the distance. She stumbled on her legs a few times but she always managed to steady her body with a hand on the wall. He wanted to make sure she's okay, that no one harasses her while she walks home. And he wanted to see for himself that she's fine.

He kept his distance from her and followed her as silent as possible. The walk seemed never ending mostly because of her stumbling around. She couldn't walk straight, but he wouldn't help her. He knew she wouldn't want it. So he silently followed her. Finally, they reached the last stairs to her building. She stopped and placed her hand on her forehead. He stopped and watched her for a few moments. Then he panicked when she fell on the ground. She wasn't unconscious though, but he couldn't watch her trying to stand up on her own. He went to her. He grabbed her shoulders gently and lifted her on her legs. Her head spun to him as she opened her eyes. His one hand was wrapped around her waist while the other held her hand. He held her close to him as he led her up the stairs.

"J-James? Wha' are you doin' here?" She mumbled out, her breath smelling like the cheap wine she was drinking. He didn't answer her though, afraid that she would send him away if she heard his voice. Her body relaxed in his arms as they reached the final stair. But still he held her. He refused to let go and see her stumble around again. She realized the ground was 'even' again and she tried to break free from his hold. But she couldn't. All he did was tightening his hold on her. She didn't complain though, and so they walked up the two floors. They reached her apartment. She fumbled in her pockets to find the key, she took it out but dropped it on the floor.

"Damn." She mumbled out, and when she leaned down to grab it she almost fell again. But he caught her and gently set her down on the floor. He took the key and unlocked her door. Then he lifted her again, and again he held her close to him as they entered her apartment. He closed the door with his leg and led her inside to her living room. Then to her bedroom. She relaxed in his arms which made it easier to walk.

"He hurt me again." She mumbled out as her head fell on his shoulder. They entered the bedroom and she somehow turned and stood in front of him now, her forehead leaned on his shoulder, her hair brushing his jaw. "Why does he keep doin' that?" Then she shook and cried. He looked around the room, trying to think of something to say, or do.

"It's not your fault Lola." He whispered against the top of her head. Somehow, she lifted her head to meet his gaze.

"But why is he sayin' it is? Why is he?" She shook her head and grabbed his collar to bring him closer to her. She let out a loud sob. "He's hurting me." Then she cried again. She was hurt and hopeless in his arms. His heart jumped up to his throat.

"He's a pendejo, Lola." Then she burst into a drunken laughter, her face lightning up with amusement, even though her face was wet.

"You- you keep callin' him that. I don't even know what it means. But it sounds funny." She kept laughing but he kept serious. This was not the first time the major made her cry.

"It means 'motherfucker'." Again, she laughed.

"Oh my. That suits him." She said laughing as he led her towards the bed. Her hands were still holding his collar. Something kicked in then. She didn't know why she felt the sudden urge to kiss him, but that's what she did. She yanked his face close to hers. He didn't have the time to react as his lips fell on hers. His heart skipped a beat when he felt the heat and softness of her lips. But this was wrong, he knew she was vulnerable now. He grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her back a little. Enough so he could stare into her eyes.

"What the hell?" He couldn't be angry. Not when he longed for the same thing. But not like this. Not when she's drunk and still caring for the major. She kissed him again. Again her soft lips fell on his. Again he wanted to deepen the kiss. But no. "Lola stop it." He pushed her away again. He saw the sadness in her eyes, on her face.

"Why?" She moved her face so close to his he could feel her breath on his face. "Why are you denying this?" She yanked him closer to her, his nose now touching hers. "Don't you like what you see?" She yanked his collar again. "Am I not good enough?" Her lower lip was quivering. But as much as he wanted to have her, he couldn't. Not like this.

"Lola. You're drunk. You'd regret it." She laughed then and finally, released his collar. She took two backwards steps and shook her head.

"Oh right. I'm drunk. Sorry..." She mumbled out the apology. She went to the bed and lied down. He knelt down and removed her boots. He took the sheet and covered her with it. "You're a sweetheart James." Then he smiled, both from happiness and relief when he saw her closing her eyes.

"You're too, Lola. Good night." Then he stood up and left, ignoring his mind to go back to her and at least lie down next to her. Luckily, his legs moved on accord of his brain. Moments later he left her apartment, but he didn't walk home. He went back to the bar to drown his arousal. To forget the kiss and the longing. To forget her soft lips. He knew he would need a lot of booze for that.