Current mood:	scared
Current music:	Alison Krauss- Let Me Touch You For Awhile

Going to ruin my black mascara
You know what's a bitch? Incredibly drunk and depressed boyfriends who appear in your living room in a slightly suicidal state.

Yes, I found Wes. In quite such a state, I must admit. Came home after searching every bar in the city to find him right there, with a knife, talking about that bitch Justine (note to self: When I run into her next, teach her how to properly slit a throat- using herself as a model.). I was worried that Connor would fuck him up, but not... last time, yes, he was past depressed, but that anger, that lust for vengance kept him going (and I made sure to put it all to good use.) This time... was... well, to put it mildly, he frightened me. I can handle Wes, handle being the only thing out there for him, but seeing him like that, talking about wanting to damn himself with me? Poetic, yes, but let's face it, Sexton and Baudelaire are more my style than star cross'd lovers. Besides, I've worked damn hard, too damn hard to have everything get shot to Hell like that, and especially not with him riding the bullet.

Stupid idiot. If he'd-

Anyways, managed to calm him down, got him to go to sleep (but not before he vomited all over my carpet), and decided to stay with him in case he tried anything. Last thing I need to come home to is blood on the walls, and ... Right, not going, there. Full stomach and whatnot. Anyways, Gunn, he's fine quite well rested, actually, and Angel, I'll be managing my cases from home for awhile longer, unless you want to risk him going AWOL with a knife again.

And I swear to God, Angel, next time you have one of these brilliant "Hey, let's erase all the times I fucked up as a parent!" ideas? I'm going to give you a bath with holy water. And garlic oil. Because in my eyes? This goes on your shoulders, as the firm completed their end of the deal. Nice job, Ace.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need a quick nap- playing nursemaid is so exhausting and satisfying.