Entry 25: Open spam for the pub

[It should not, strictly speaking, matter that George is gone. They both knew there would be an expiration date on whatever it was they had. How could they not, when neither of them could ever get by permanently in the other one's world? No, she'd always known: one day, she would go home to the Watch and Carrot, and he would go back to Toronto and... Violet the dog, perhaps.

It's just that she's always been the one who's left before. Sometimes at a run while the then-ex-boyfriend gave chase with torches, but still. She had been absolutely sure she would be the one to do the leaving, and there was a guilt in that, but also a comfort.

Now?

Well, now she's getting bloody drunk.

And it's not even like she has anyone to get drunk with, because other than Buffy, who even knew about her and George? All right, possibly everyone, but she'd like to believe that's not true.

So she's sitting in the pub, getting drunk, by herself. Not, she thinks bitterly, how I used to spend my evenings.]