"SISSSTUAAAH", I could feel the glob of snot about to fall from my nose into my drunken open mouth as I barged open the right door (embarrassingly, the building next door is a private residence).
I should have expected the look I got as she turned around. I had known she was working. And I had known all along she hated to be disturbed when she was working, especially by family members who had gotten themselves into a state. It was one of disappointment mixed in with genuine concern. It hurt but I couldn't stop my drunken outburst. It made me feel like I was physically going to be sick. Or that could be the alcohol.
I could see her shoot her superior a look of apology as she hurried over to me, clasping her hands around my cheeks before she noticed the eyes on her causing her cheeks to burn up. She hoisted one arm under me, somehow helping me to a private room meant only for staff, despite her low strength stats and me wearing (somewhat) half of my armour.
Once all alone, she nearly opened her mouth to have an outburst, but it was clearly visible as soon as her lips had started to part, her brain kicked in and she re-evaluated that she should compose herself. The walls were pretty thin after all, and another outburst would reflect poorly on her. Instead, she excused herself to fetch a pitcher of water and a glass to help sober me up, but I'd managed that pretty much all on my own wallowing in the self-pity of causing such upset.
Once she was satisfied my stomach was at least half and half water to alcohol, she disappeared once again and returned with a lantern and her coat. It looked like she was clocking off early, adding another pang of guilt that she'd be losing out on pay so that she could walk me home.
I could tell all the way home she was trying not to be upset and make light conversation, but she could somehow sense her reasoning for getting drunk was a bad one.
Instead of just leaving me at the door, she followed me inside and as the lantern gave light to my tiny apartment, I was surprised. Sitting on the table was a birthday cake, looking exactly how our mother used to make it. It didn't occur to me at all how on earth she managed to get the cake here*.
The only thing on my mind was getting the biggest slice into my mouth; even though anything else would have made me vomit, I could shockingly always manage to keep down some of mother's cheesecake.
Authors note:
* Lon has an even better relationship with the landlady than Lan does, despite it not being her apartment. She happily let Lon use her own personal kitchen earlier that morning so she could take it up to Lan's apartment, free of suspicion, whilst she was out with her adventuring party.