She scoots to the edge of the bed, holding the sheet around her midriff without any real attempt at modesty.

'Weren't we all?'

It's not really a question.

'What do you want to do?' Her first impulse is to throw on clothes and dash down the stairs to see her friend, but things are different now. And if his answer is anything other than drink a whole bottle of scotch in one sitting, then she thinks she might need to hear it.