All characters are over 18.
***
"... And five, feeling fully awake. There, how do you feel?"
She blinked, looking around slowly. Her brain felt like it was packed in cotton. "Fuzzy ..."
"But good?"
Her eyes scanned from one wall to another. She was in ... his apartment? Someone's apartment. It didn't seem familiar - but presumably his. Mark's? Matt's? What *was* his name?
He'd asked something. What was it. "... Yes," she nodded gently, as if remembering how. "Good."
"That's good." He smiled, and his smile was warm. She smiled back, instinctively. It felt good to smile. It made her relax a little more, and feel that everything was all right.
He was turning on the electric lights - a switch here, a switch there - and coming back to the couch to blow out the candle while she breathed deeply, waiting for the daze to subside. She still felt like she wasn't quite back in her body. In her mind.
"Let me pour you another drink, I'd like to talk to you a little more," he said. "You'd like that too."
She looked at the little table in front of them, where there was an empty glass, with one mostly-melted ice cube left. "Yes, that would be nice," she said automatically, but as he moved to the kitchen, she started to get nervous. When had she drunk the first drink? And what was in it? There was a fruity taste in her mouth, but she couldn't quite place it.
Her memories of the last couple hours were hazy indeed - no recollection of meeting this man, of coming to his apartment for a cocktail, yet here she was ... She told herself the memories would come back once she woke up a little, but still, she was feeling nervous.
"I-I should probably get going," she called, and stood, on wobbly feet.
"Nonsense, you just got here!" She could hear ice cubes, a glass, those little metal tongs, as she tottered toward his door. "Give me a few more minutes."
"I'd like to ..." she said, and knew it was true. "But I ..."
She had a hand on the doorknob, but stood looking at it stupidly, without turning.
"I really can't stay ..." she murmured.
"But, kitten, it's cold outside," he said, moving toward her with a tumbler in hand.
She stared at the doorknob. How did it work, again?
"I've got to go 'waaaay," she whined.
He laid a palm against the door, looking at her with a patronizing grin. "Aww, but princess, it's cold outside ..."
She rounded on him, concentrating on finding a scrap of desperate anger. "This evening has been -"
"I'm hoping -" and he chimed the tongs against the glass with a *ting* - "it's been...?"
She sighed, relaxing her shoulders. "So very nice ..." she grinned softly, as her anxiety fled again.
"Come, take my hand," he said as he led her docilely toward the sofa again. "Now, do you want ice?"
She stopped, her eyes going wide. "My mother! She'll start to worry ..."
"Dutiful." He nodded approvingly. "But there's no hurry," he added, crossing to the fireplace.
"And my father will be pacing the floor ..." she said distractedly, as she instinctively followed him.
He gestured to the dancing, hypnotic flames. "But look at that fireplace roar ..."
"So really," she started, but the fire caught her eyes, and she sank slowly to her knees in front of it. "I ... I'd better scurry ..." she barely whispered.
"Beautiful ..." She heard him moving closer as she stared into the flames. "Now, see? No hurry."
"Well, maybe just a ... a half a drink more ..."
She raised a hand, and a cool glass was put into it. "Sip this and count backwards from four," he instructed.
She sipped. Relaxed further. It really was quite nice here. No reason to put her clothes on yet. She sipped again.
*Clothes* ... There was a thought there, but she couldn't quite access it.
