asher
It wasn’t often that Gemma voluntarily put herself into situations where she was ( most likely ) the only sober person in the room. Standing next to an open bar was a recipe for disaster, but even though she’d successfully kept her distance all night, the barrage of drinks and old haunts had left her aching for a drink to kick back the lingering nerves and regrets. It was too much, too much like Las Vegas, too many of her demons all in one room, too many memories she hadn’t fully processed coming up in full-force. It’d been a bad idea, and she’d known it upon deciding to go, but she’d been certain that the cause was worth it. Now, she wasn’t so sure anymore, anxiety twisting in her veins leaving her feeling hopelessly out of place. Dialing her brother’s number in the hope that he’d answer and she’d have someone who understood, the sinking feeling in her chest only grew as the dial tones eventually ran over into his voicemail. Swallowing down the tears welling in her eyes, she instead turned towards the nearest stranger, giving them a light tap on the shoulder and an apologetic expression for interrupting their night. “Sorry, do you know how much longer it’ll be until the auction starts?” ( @ashaldridge )
