Request for the prompt: "I really don't know why I'm crying."
The stools on either side of Stevie are both empty, so Nadine pulls out the one on her right, perches herself on it without asking.
Stevie turns slightly. "Oh, hi Nadine." She sounds and looks tipsy, but a sad kind of tipsy, which could be a bad sign. "Didn't know you came here."
"I had a working dinner," Nadine says. The colleague in question had, weirdly, tried to treat it as a date, but that's neither here nor there. She's had plenty practice shutting down that kind of behavior. "What are you drinking?" She eyes Stevie's glass, which looks to be mostly melted ice now.
"Vodka soda."
Nadine gets the bartender's attention and orders two more of them without hesitation, and she tries not to wince openly as she does it. It isn't the drink she would have chosen, but Stevie looks like she could use a little morale boost. Nadine doesn't know her very well, but she remembers what it was like to be her age.
The bartender sets the drinks in front of them and Nadine slides one over to Stevie, who mumbles her thanks. She takes a tiny sip of her own and only grimaces a little. At least it's light. A skinny drink for a skinny girl.
Stevie glances over. "You don't like it," she guesses. Without waiting for an answer, she tugs Nadine's glass over for herself and then snags the bartender again as she scans the bottles behind him. "Macallan 12, please," she decides. "Neat." When Nadine chuckles, she shrugs. "You're a lot like my mom. Figure your drink would be the same, too." She takes a long drink out of her own glass. "And I could use both of these, anyways," she mumbles.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
She tips her head. "After you finish that drink, do you want to talk about it?" She doesn't know how lightly to tread here, but if the girl is out drinking alone, surely she needs someone who will listen.
"...Maybe." She takes another sip. Into the glass, she mutters, "Maybe after both drinks."
The bartender sets the scotch in front of her and then moves away. Nadine swirls it, breathes it in gratefully, takes a sip. Better.
"I knew I got it right," Stevie says. She taps her glass to Nadine's. "Cheers." She takes another sip and falls quiet. She fiddles with her cocktail napkin, the drink straw, the condensation beading up along the outside of her glass, looking generally nervous. Nadine decides to wait her out.
"I think I need to break up with my fiancé," she blurts out finally. And then Stevie begins to cry.
"Oh, honey." Nadine pulls her into a tight hug. Mentally, she takes stock. She knows exactly nothing about the situation—truthfully, she isn't even sure that she knew that Stevie was engaged at all. Did the Secretary ever mention it? She can't recall.
"God," Stevie says with a tiny hiccup, leaning hard into her shoulder, "I'm sorry. I- I really don't know why I'm crying." And then she dissolves into fresh tears. "S-so dumb."
Nadine offers her a napkin which Stevie crumples in her fist and presses to her nose. "Break-ups are hard," Nadine soothes. "Breaking off an engagement is even harder... even just contemplating the possibility. I get that. You're not dumb."
"My parents j-just love him so m-much," Stevie sniffles, dabbing at her eyes now. "They'd be so disappointed if... if I..." She lets out a short sob and doesn't continue.
"They love you so much," Nadine corrects. "They don't care about the boy, they care about you. And if you're not happy, they'll get over the boy. I promise."
Stevie considers this as she finishes off the second drink. And then she sighs. "I just... I guess I don't really know what I want right now."
"That's okay, too."
"Yeah?"
"You don't have to figure it all out tonight. A little wallowing is okay." Nadine knows full well how this routine goes. She tips her head toward the empty glasses. "Now, do you want another one?"
"...Yeah, maybe."
"All right then, go on." Nadine flags down the bartender. "I'll drive you home."