You only went to the stupid bar in the first place because he made you leave the hub, said you were working yourself too hard and that you should rest. You couldn't stand being in your flat though, that cold empty flat that you'd tried to make seem homely by putting photographs of you and her up... Seeing the photographs only made you remember that she was stuck there, in that basement, probably waiting, hoping, for you to come and see her. So you went out, out to some random bar to try and forget, forget everything and everyone. It didn't take long for you to get drunk, didn't take long for you to find some willing bitch to take outside. You didn't feel as guilty as you possibly should have as the random woman unbuttoned your jeans and took you in her mouth, no not guilty... Not then anyway. The guilt came later, because when you finally came, spurting down the willing throat it wasn't her face that filled you mind but his... Captain Jack fucking Harkness. As if your life wasn't screwed up enough.