Dana sat back down at the table, avoiding Alice’s eyes. She quickly knocked back the tequilla shot that had been ordered for her, feeling it burn the back of her throat and chest on the way down. She prepared to stand up to leave, throwing a few bills on the table.

“Dana, you’re bleeding!” Tina noticed with alarm.

Dana glanced down, noticing blood had soaked through the bandage and was noticeable on her sleeve. “It’s just a scratch,” she said nonchalantly, standing up and pushing in her chair, noticing she felt a little light-headed from eithr blood-loss or alcohol, or perhaps even a combination of the two. “I’ll see you guys later. I have to get home.”

The others cast concerned glances at each other. “Dana, are you okay?” Tina asked softly, concern evident in her voice.

“I’m fine. See you guys.” Dana gave a tight-lipped smiled and walked away slightly unsteadily.

Shane met Alice’s eyes, then glanced at Tina. “I’ll check on her. See you guys.”

“Call us later and let us know how she is,” Alice instructed, Tina nodding beside her.

Shane found Dana on the sidewalk outside of Milk, trying to hail a cab. “Dana, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just…tired,” Dana replied, keeping an eye out for an available taxi.

Shane took her arm. “Let me take you home. There’s no need for you to waste money on a cab.” She glanced down at the bloodstain on Dana’s sleeve. “What happened to your arm? Let me take a look at that. She pulled Dana’s arm closer, gently pushing up the sleeve and slowly peeling back the bandage, noticing Dana’s quick intake of breath at the pain.

“It’s really nothing, Shane. Just a scratch. You know what I klutz I am. I just had an accident in the kitchen earlier.”

Shane gazed at her, not quite sure if she fulled believed her, but unwilling to push the issue. She glanced at Dana’s arm, wincing. “*****, Fairbanks, that looks pretty ***** bad. You need stitches.”

Dana pulled her arm away. “That’s okay. Just take me home, please.”

“No, I’m taking you to a hospital,” Shane said firmly, pulling her keys from her pocket and, holding Dana’s arm carefully, leading her toward the street.

“No, I just want to go home,” Dana protested weakly, shuffling her feet.

Shane held the truck door open for Dana. “Shut up, Fairbanks, and do what I say.”

Dana knew there was no arguing with Shane, so she got into the passenger’s seat of the truck.