[Sadrain]

December 17th, Chicago. Sewers #17.

Leila floated there in silence for a short while, looking down at the man, out cold. To get drunk like this... Rather despicable trait. Although she sometimes doubted his sensibility, she thought he would know better than getting drunk to this point. Like a homeless dog, he got wasted and slept where he could, with no true attachment. The friends he picked seemed to more often bother him than aid him. Yet, Amante had picked someone whom could put him in this state - and worse than that. The girl meant so much to him? Apparently.

Thoughtfully, Leila floated off. It was the last round of the patrol, after that she could go to sleep. But the past few nights, she had been more busy working on her shadow net tightening, or writing, than sleeping. The anxiety of no drugs had to be worked out somehow, to not make her even snappier than usually.