Help Susanna

Across the party, you see Susanna seriously struggling with a drunk guy nearly six inches taller than her. He isn't being belligerent, but clearly his friends should have taken him home five beers ago. The guy can barely walk, stumbling and falling against every object in their path as Susanna does her best to get him out the door.

You jog up to them, pushing past some people in the crowd. "Can I help?" you yell, barely audible over the crowd and the music.

You can't hear what Susanna says, but based on the movement of her lips, it seems like she's saying 'Thank God.' "Yes!" she yells back over the noise. You duck under the other arm of the drunk and make him a little easier to manage. Still, he's a handful, leaving the two of you to shamble across the floor and toward the door.

Once you get him outside, things go a little easier. The two of you lean him against the railing on the porch of the house, and he promptly empties his guts out into the snow on the other side. It's a disgusting, retching sound, and you both cringe to hear it.

"So not a good night for you?" you ask.

"Not so much, no," Susanna says. You can hear the exhaustion in her voice, still tinged with her Scottish accent. The bun in her hair had been very tight before you left Greg's room, but it's become much more loose and messy since the last time you saw her. When paired with her tight turtleneck and leather pants, it honestly looks really good. She looks tired, like she's just gotten off a long shift, but she somehow looks hot.

The guy retches and stumbles, unable to stand up straight even with the help of the railing. You jump to keep him on his feet, saving him before he can fall flat onto his ass completely. You rest him against the wall, where he moans like a ghost.

"Too many drinks, guy," you say. "Do you have any friends here to take you home?"

"Nnnnnoooo," he whimpers, holding his stomach.

"Who comes to a party alone?" Susanna scoffs. "I bet he's just covering for them so they don't have to bring him home themselves."

"Yeah, probably," you say. It's a disappointment, but you know that Susanna isn't going to be able to enjoy the party with this guy hanging around. And if she isn't enjoying it, you know that you won't be enjoying it, either. "Hey, buddy. Where do you live?"

It takes a while, but you manage to get an address out of him. You sigh, rub your face, and resign yourself to what's next.