darker_london | Backwards (Peter, Abby) (Reply)

Peter had far too much to do. An ache in Peter's stomach reminded him that he'd possibly been neglecting said stomach in order to take care of other things...for several days now, come to think of it. As Peter was currently in his office at the hospital in the middle of things, there wasn't much he could do about that without heading downstairs to the cafeteria and interrupting his process. Well...beyond scrouging through his drawers. So that's what he did. His journals in which he was recording all of the details pertaining to the events of the past few days lay open on his desk, as well as the journal from around 1999 when he had first encountered Caoilfhionn. He had spent all morning in meetings with the health department and all afternoon he'd been cross-referencing. Which did tend to give one the munchies.

Peter's search for food was a trifle fruitless, however. He did turn up half a packet of crisps, but Peter was far too afraid of getting some horrible stale chip disease to try those on. He did, however, ball up the packet and toss it into the bin on the first try without missing. "Ha ha!" He said aloud to nobody. "That's right!" And then he turned back to his search, eventually unearthing yet another unopened bottle of scotch. "Oh, Peter, what the hell?" He asked himself. He didn't remember buying the bottle, but he knew he must have. No one else would sneak into an alcoholic's office and slip them scotch...unless they were weird...

Abby knocked on Peter's door and then she let herself in, though on first glance, she didn't see him. "Er..."

Peter yelped at the sudden presence there and he jumped up, taking care to hide the bottle under his desk. "Yes what! Yes! What?! Abby?" Peter moved to sit in his chair, but as it was equipped with wheels and he was slightly frantic at being nearly caught with alcohol, he missed and it went shooting away from him, sending him tumbling to the floor.

Abby raised her eyebrows and she started forward to help him.

"I'm fine! I'm okay! I don't need help!" Peter insisted, holding up a hand so she could see him from behind the desk. He picked himself up again and he chased after the chair. When he reached it, he sat down and wheeled back to his desk, before leaning against it non-chalantly. "Can I help you, Abigail?"

Abby snorted. "Nice. Though I'm not entirely convinced you don't need help." She said with a wink.

"Ah, you wouldn't be the only one there." Peter grinned and he ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "Though that performance you just witnessed probably hammered the point home..."

"Quite. Peter, Naja's been asking for you. I know you're busy with meetings with the real people, and Emma and Misha and everything, but-" Abby did worry. Peter owned the hospital and he delegated as much as he could, but oftentimes the best person to help someone was Peter himself and there was absolutely no way around that. He got to the heart of the issue far more quickly than most people, and he did it so well. But he had a family...he had seven children and a wife and other people who needed him and Abby did wonder how he didn't burn himself out. "I think you're the only person who will be able to get through to her. I've been trying."

"Of course." Peter nodded. "It makes sense. I'm the one who dreamed of her. There's a connection there. And she can feel that I used to be an angel just as she used to be a demon. Of course I'll speak to her."

"She hasn't been violent at all. She's a good patient. She just doesn't speak much and it's hard to know how to help. There's no rush, Peter."

"No, it's alright." Peter gave Abby a patient smile. "I'll be there in a moment. It's no trouble."

Abby bit her lip and then she nodded. "Okay...thank you." She left him then, closing the door behind her. She wished she could help. But she wasn't even authorised to handle the administrative side of the hospital's operations. That was usually Liz's domain, but she was understandably busy and Peter was carrying her end of things as well, not to mention Rolf's who was curiously MIA. Abby resolved that if things were still crazy tomorrow, she would help anyway. Certainly that would make a difference.

Peter sat in his chair for a moment after Abby left, simply staring at the office door. He didn't have time to eat now, and that was okay. He was used to it. He was tired, however. He needed to have his wits about him when dealing with a distressed vampire. Peter's eyes travelled down to the bottle of scotch, hiding there under his desk. He bit his lip, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Shitfaced was hardly the state he needed to be speaking to Naja in, but one little drink couldn't hurt. Right?

Peter reached down before he could think better of it, and he took a deep swig of the strong liquid before replacing the cap. The alcohol burned his throat with sweet familiarity, and Peter licked the remaining scotch from his lips. Then he was filled with the absolutely horrible realisation that he had just taken a gigantic step backwards. He hadn't had a drop of alcohol since his battle with brain cancer the year before. And after months and months of dealing and staying away from drink, he'd ruined it all. He had to start all over again.

Before he could convince himself it was a good idea to cover his guilt by drinking yet more of the scotch on an achingly empty stomach, Peter shoved the bottle back into his drawer and he hurried out the door. He could cross-reference and self-loathe later. For now, he had a vampire to see.