"Amy? What the hell are you doing here?" Clara asked, stunned to find the ginger sitting crossed legged in her kitchen, holding a wine bottle in one hand and whisk in the other.
"What even do you use a whisk for? They're just," Amy waved the utensil around dumbly, trying to think of the words, "holey."
Clara sigh, this wasn't the first time she'd seen Amy drunk, but always she managed to do the most curious things. "Amy, come on. You're drunk. Come an—"
"I'm not drunk!" Amy said sharply, jumping to her feet, the whisk and wine bottle slipping through her fingers and smashing to the floor as Amy fell forward. Clara ran forward to catch her, but not before a bit of glass caught her leg and she hissed in pain.
Amy started to pull out of Clara's arms to ask if she was okay, but Clara just shushed her and lead her drunken friend to her bedroom. "Clara, seriously, are you –"
"Fine, now come on, you nee—"
"Clara," Amy stopped letting Clara walk her down the hallway, and looked at her brunette friend. Yes, Amy was drunk, but she wasn't drunk enough to know something was wrong with Clara, "what happened?"
"I'm fine, really. You're the one that's not alright. Now come on, we need to get to bed…"
Amy collapsed into Clara's bed as soon as they got into the room, and Clara was pretty sure that she fell asleep before her body hit the bed. Clara made sure her Scottish friend was safe and alright before heading into the kitchen to clean up the mess, and half way through cleaning, a thought struck her:
How the hell did Amy manage to get in?
The front door was locked, and all the windows were closed. As soon as she finished cleaning up the wine and broken glass she checked all the windows in her apartment, to find them all closed; the bathroom, lounge and bedroom, all closed tightly. Clara frowned, where could've Amy gotten in? She was drunk she could barely stand, let alone break into an apartment with a bottle in one hand and a whisk in the other. That was when she realised she was still holding the whisk.
Clara went back into the kitchen to put the whisk back, and shivered a little. The window was open, letting in the cool winter breeze. Closing it, she turned to check on Amy before going to bed herself. Clara peeked around the doorway of her bedroom, to find Amy sprawled out over her bed, snoring softly. The kitchen window. Of course Amy had crawled through her kitchen window. She scowled at the sleeping woman, but couldn't help but smile a little.
Heading into the lounge, she made a mental note to ask Amy in the morning how she managed to fit through such a small window.