When she finished her third drink, she was too drunk for common sense to stop her from standing when the witch stood and made her way to the bathroom. She may have told the people sitting around her that she was going to the bathroom, or she may not have, she couldn’t remember. She had almost made it to the bathroom, when she felt an arm slither around her waist from behind, pulling her back into his chest. She knew instantly it was him, the scent of winter strong even amongst the various smells of the bar. 