Teddy gulped. It was as if thinking of Pret had conjured him.
Pret's eyes narrowed, stretching a scar across his eyelid. "Hmm... Tommy-boy. Whatcha doing in the Alpha's booze?"
Teddy could've asked the same. Instead, he just tried to swallow again.
Pret stepped into the cabinet and Teddy raised his wand instinctively. Pret cocked his head. "None of that. Just here for a drink. Same as you, aye?"
"Aye- er- yes." Pret was famous for his temper that turned on a hair and the abandon in which he threw himself into a fight. Teddy very much did not want to get into a fight with Pret in the middle of a room of glass bottles and expensive alcohol. Especially since neither of them was supposed to be here in the first place.
Even if Teddy could take him. Probably.
Pret took his time getting a drink. His hands were mangled with dark scar tissue that made it difficult to hold things. But Teddy was pretty sure Pret was also doing it on purpose, prolonging the time that Teddy had to wait. The problem was, the longer Teddy waited, the more he felt the alcohol shifting into his system and warming him up. The tenseness in his stomach eased and there was a voice in the back of his head that said Pret wasn't that big. Sure, he seemed scary, but that was just the weakling in Teddy talking. Teddy was a trained Auror and a werewolf to top it off.
Part of Teddy knew very well that it was probably the alcohol talking and tried to ignore the growing urge to fight. Instead, he just watched Pret's back as the man fumbled around and began pouring something into his canteen.
Teddy took another deep breath to try and clear his head but now his nightmares were hovering at the edge of his vision. Pret was still clinking things around and so Teddy pressed himself against the wall and willed them to go away. By the time Pret turned around, the room had started to slosh weirdly around him.
Teddy froze as Pret looked over him speculatively. "You're drunk, aren't you, Tommy-boy?" Pret said, using his free hand to slap Teddy's shoulder.
Teddy focused hard on not listing to the side. "Hmm... probably," he said carefully, hoping it was the best response to avoid a fight.
Pret laughed, a dry hissing sort of sound. "Took her dying pretty hard, didn't you?"
Teddy was hit hard by an image of Lilith's bloody face. He half snarled at Pret, he couldn't help it. Even through Teddy's drunken dizziness he could see the way it made Pret smile. So Pret was looking for a fight. Teddy couldn't let himself be goaded on by Pret's words. Teddy grabbed onto the cabinet so he didn't face-plant or lunge at Pret. Both seemed equally likely at this point.
He took a deep breath and then another, body strung tight with the need to do something. Pret said something else, but Teddy ignored him, staring hazily up at the ceiling. He could leave. But that would leave his back to Pret and that wouldn't be wise if Pret really was looking for a fight. Besides, Teddy was pretty sure he was too drunk to walk straight at this point. It might be enough to incite Pret into attacking even if Pret hadn't particularly been looking for a fight before that. So he just focused on counting breaths. Or ceiling beams. Anything to stop him from thinking about the jibes Pret was saying about Lilith. Time seemed to stretch oddly at the seams as he put all his effort into just staying still. At some point Pret said something and left, Teddy was a little hazy on the timing. The second the door shut, though, he blindly felt along the cabinet, looking for something he could drink and drown out the image of her body in a pool of blood.
His fingers scrambled clumsily over the bottles on the back shelf until a smaller one tipped and shattered on the floor. The scent of burning flesh from his nightmares suddenly tripled in intensity. The stench filled the small cupboard and clogged the back of his throat. He started to wretch, hands going to cover his face so nothing would come up.
Teddy was hit with an uncontrollable urge to run- to escape the horrible images that were flooding his mind again.
He blindly grabbed at the door and after a few tries finally got it open. It took the same effort to get the door closed again. He managed to hold off the worst of the vomit until he was in the bathroom. Then he stumbled up the stairs. He just hoped he was drunk enough to pass out once he reached his bed.