You stagger forward. A thick red carpet hushes your footfalls. Oil paintings decorate the walls while the soft glow from a crystal chandelier lights the foyer. Krystal pulls you to the side, sliding her hand into yours. Your fingers interlock and you marvel at the way they fit together so perfectly, so naturally before you’re drawn out of your reverie by the sheer splendor of the great hall. Wall hangings decorate every corner of the room, tapestries imported from some Middle Eastern country hang from the ceiling and plush divans litter the floor. A fireplace quietly glows in the corner, and rows of books line mahogany shelves recessed above the mantle.

Krystal tugs you quickly past the room and you follow, wanting to make sure that if she falls you’ll catch her again. She stumbles a bit and you haul her up, placing a hand on her waist. You two walk into another marble foyer which houses six gleaming elevators. She presses the “Up” button and an elevator dings. You follow her into the elevator and rise to the fifth floor where she exists and heads to the last door down the hall. Swiping her keycard, she lets you into her suite.

“Home sweet home. Can I get you anything?”

She waves her hands around. You shake your head as you take it all in. It is a simple two-room affair, with a small living room complete with dark leather furniture and a kitchenette to the side, and a bedroom in the back. You walk to the kitchenette, and open your backpack. She has a toaster oven and so you take out enough bread and cheese to make several grilled cheese sandwiches and pop them in. Turning around, you watch Krystal disappear into her bedroom and close her door. She’s definitely sobered up, but part of you wonders if she’ll remember tonight. You feel a slight twinge of disappointment when you think she won’t.