Murphy wasn't sure what had happened. Hell, he couldn't barely remember what happened after those shots of jäger and pint after pint of beer. Hazy memories of Connor giving him the thumbs up as he locked lips with a girl he'd met an hour before. Murphy vaguely remembered talking to a woman. He could picture her lips, full and red like fresh cherries. Her hair smelt like cinnamon and was as soft silk. She was laughing, he had made her laugh? What story had he told her? She was gorgeous, so why the hell was she wasting her time with a nobody like himself?
Murphy groaned and tried to assess his surroundings. The bed he was laying face first on definitely wasn't his. The sheets were soft and smelt like spring. His arm was hanging off the edge, so it was up off the ground. His other arm reached out and touched something soft and warm. Murphy cracked an eye open, blinking against the gentle rays of morning light peeking in through the blinds.
There was a woman sitting on the edge of the bed. Flame like locks twisted down her back, bits crazily poking out at odd angles. She was naked, he could clearly tell that from her bare backside. His finger tips had grazed her hip just slightly. The woman glanced over her shoulder before she turned back around, obviously busy with something.
"I'm surprised ye stuck 'round this long." She said, her voice thick with an accent he recognized as Scottish.
Murphy sat up and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. "I can't even fuckin' remember me own name. Where the 'ell am I?"
The woman snorted. "Me apartment. Yer a lightweight. I drank more than ye and I remembered me own address."
She stood, giving him a good look at her bottom. He noticed a large mural of Scottish thistles and Celtic knots tattooed onto her back. The next thing he noticed was the tiny face peeking over her shoulder. She had a baby.
Fuck.
The woman glanced back at him and gestured to the floor with her chin. "Yer clothes are on the floor. Git dressed n' go."
When she left the room, Murphy punched the mattress a few times before getting off the bed. He must have been extremely drunk last night. Not only that but the woman he had slept with had a baby. He had nothing against her, but if she wanted him gone then... Was she married? The thought of her Scottish husband coming home and kicking his ass made him dress quickly.
Murphy wandered out of the bed room and into the living room. The woman was dressed now, in a pretty flower print sundress with her hair as wild as ever. She was rocking the baby and cooing to him- by the little blue overalls, Murphy guessed it was a boy. He paused for a moment, watching the mother dance around the room, singling a lovely Scottish lullaby.
"Where's the lad's father?" Murphy asked, breaking the calming mood.
The woman didn't miss a beat and continued to sway her hips. "Dead I 'ope. I was raped. Angus 'ere was the result."
In that moment Murphy was pleased with his work as a Saint. He wanted to clear the streets of the men who had sinned. Hell, he might have actually killed the man that had raped her.
"What's yer name, love?" He asked softly.
"Lily," she looked up at him, seeming a little like a deer caught in the headlights. "Lily Mcgregor."
Murphy nodded and stepped forward. "Well, I'll be seein' ye. If ye ever need anythin' just call."
She nodded numbly, watching him as he walked out the door. Lily quietly prayed and pressed her lips on her child's forehead.