"Where is Dorothea?" a gentleman asked, smiling, while a girl laughed on his lap. "She is the spirit of the party!"
The girl on his lap shifted uncomfortably, but kept her smile on.
"She has a terrible headache today, gentlemen." Doran said. "Women!"
Everybody laughed and Doran entered the back of the bar. He took the stairs inside the kitchen, so he could go to Dorothea's room without going through the main ballroom.
He entered the hallway and saw how dusty it was. He wrinkled his nose. He would deal with that later.
When he reached her door, he took a last look at himself at the mirror just beside him. He was not a handsome man, he knew that. But he was still not so repulsive. He didn't knock. Of course not. He slid his hand inside his pocket and got the key, before he put it inside the lock and turned the knob, opening the door slowly.
The small frame inside the bed was curled up, sobbing. He hated women sobbing, especially her. But she deserved that.
