Gracelyn continued drinking. She was almost down a whole bottle, nearing the end of it. Though she wanted to rid her mind of the thoughts they still paced through her head. Jericho snuck by, and she didn't bother following him. Some others walked by, and were talking elsewhere. She didn't bother them either. Just her and her drinks.

 The thoughts wandered still again to the mangled girl. She was still quite pissed about it, letting that innocent person die in such a meaningless way. She thought about it. If she had stood her ground, maybe Freya wouldn't be in the state that she was, all broken and battered. Her hand trembled and shook, letting a few drips spill. She quickly downed it, rolling the empty glass in her hand. 

She got angry about it. Her hands shook in rage. Her eyes widened, and she silently crushed the glass.

 After realizing what she had done, she sighed, gathering the glass into a pile, and looked at the cuts on her hand. Not too much blood, although there was still enough to be worried about. She took the last bit of gin and poured it on her hand, figuring it would fix it.

 She pulled out another glass and cracked a new bottle, pouring another glass.