Moira sat on the ground for a while and realized that it had been quite some time since they came down. If they didn't head back up soon, Rose would probably start to worry. But Barclay was drunk...

Moira leaned against the wine cabinet behind her and stood up, looking down at Barclay still seated there. "Mr. Covington, shall we go upstairs?"

Barclay heard her words, lifted his head, and gazed at her for a moment. "Why should we go upstairs?"

'Listen! Is this something regular Barclay would ask?' Moira thought helplessly.

"We're going upstairs to eat," she said and reached out to pull him up.

With her assistance, he got to his feet. "I have no appetite."

'Of course, you don't. You're drunk!' she thought.

"Then shall we go upstairs to rest?"

He furrowed his brow and seriously considered her suggestion.

After about five seconds, he nodded.

Moira was worried about Barclay falling down the stairs, so she led him to the elevator.

Drunk Barclay was surprisingly compliant.

an inexplicable joy as she held his

his room

prepared dinner. "Mrs. Covington, dinner is

food for later? Barclay isn't feeling well. He'll eat

divided the meal in half, and brought out one

upstairs to their room. It was past ten in the evening when Moira finished showering and prepared to sleep. Suddenly, she remembered

almost ten seconds before it opened. Barclay had showered and was wearing a bathrobe, one hand holding the doorknob, the other

at him, feeling a

was in

the kiss

е

waved her hand. It's okay.

AQUE

once in a

as she finished speaking, Moira saw Barclay's face relax into

laughed nervously.

"A little."

don't want to trouble you. I'll just go downstairs and make

knew he

quickly intervened. "I

food for you.

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