I Was Drinking With Cupid

In the doorway Megara watched, stared at him with an ever deepening frown the more she picked up the signs.

Wasted. And high. On their anniversary.

Furious wasn’t enough to describe how the elf felt, her hard gaze following him up to his feet, arching with the faded memory. And? knowing there was far more to it than a simple brawl, he was too twitchy, anxious without the stimulants coursing in his system. She drew the shawl into her hands, folding the fabric roughly, desperately needing something to occupy her hands.

Their motions stopped dead when murmured at her, gaze finding his wandering over her outfit. It only infuriated her more. A curse in dalish fell, Nervous? Of wha- cut off as he checked himself for something. Suspicion. Something that rarely entered her expression now consumed it, eyes narrowed at the box unable to comprehend at first. Him hiding it only reinforced her need to know the truth.

Her voice clipped between breaths, demanding an answer from him. What. Is. That Clasping the shawl in one had Meg pointed between the cushions.

@Nairn