[CW: Child neglect, alcohol addiction]

Go to market, get some bread. One foot in front of the other. If she fell, at this time of day it would usually be broken by strangers. Besides, her personal stash was running a bit low.

The world was merely warmer, cheerier, instead of spinning like a street performer.

Her foot dragged when she passed by one of her watering holes, sweating. She had enough for a drink, right?

She always had enough for a drink – even when she didn’t. Besides! One of the boys had grown up and gone off on their own, or girls had gotten married, or … something, right? Drink now, figure it out later.

With a dazed smile, she pirouetted around and smashed an elbow into someone beside her, not even looking back in her enchanted march to familiar grounds.

Anthony had, surprisingly, left the house, and gone outside to do god knows what because he himself doesn't even know what he's going to do here. Maybe he's going to rob someone. Maybe he's going to kill someone. Maybe he's just taking a walk! Who knows, not him! 

Though today had proven itself to be fine, it seemed that said fine-ness wouldn't stay for long. In the midst of his little walk, then, he was basically elbowed in the stomach. He didn't even know his mood could be ruined as quickly as it was now. He whipped his head around to face this assailant.

"Hey!" he called after her. Though he was usually fairly kind towards people who do these things on accident, for some reason he felt different. Almost as if he was being mocked or something. And he has no reason to trust that he's NOT being mocked.

What was that bump? Was Harry yelling at her? Oh, wait, Harry was waiting for her to … to do something. What was it again? She felt the lingering tingle of finishing off the last wine, and turned her head to look over her shoulder.

She saw a man near-eye level with her. Oh! What a handsome young man. Was he one of hers? He looked angry enough to be. She smiled and scrunched her nose at him, got bumped by a passerby, then begun her single-minded amble on with a mocking? giddy look.

Oh, okay, he was definitely being mocked right now.  And he doesn't really like when he's being mocked, as a matter of fact! Anthony frowned, standing still for a moment, before starting to walk again.

"Hey, I SAID something," he said (as he likes doing). Picking up the pace a little, he approached the woman yet again, willing to leave her alone only and fuck off only once they've settled this quarrel. Anthony is a nice man but not nice enough to let himself be mocked like this.

Three drunken Anita Stumbles were about one and a half Sober Undecided Murderer Steps, and so Anthony no doubt found himself able to catch up with her in short order.

Meanwhile, Anita was still processing ten steps ago. She slowed and swayed in place, steadying a foot behind her as though she were on a tossing boat instead of dirt that hadn’t so much as shivered let alone quaked in 10 years!

When she turned, it was with a quizzical purse of her lips and then slow, placating nod and smile. One of her older sons. Definitely. Maybe. In her more sober moments, she sometimes wondered if the human version of a cuckoo (dear sister she) had shoved more than one egg into Anita’s nest.

This one definitely looked more like Claudia.

“That’s very nice,” she beamed.

Harry was always light on the smiling, so she made sure to smile even when she just really needed the loo.

Anthony found himself catching up with the woman quite easily. As he looked at her, he did in fact make note of the fact that the woman seems drunk as all hell, but he was definitely way too annoyed and irritated by her already to even care about that. When he's drunk he doesn't walk around like her.

Anthony cringed as she looked at him and smiled and said something in an extremely mocking way. But, for now at least, Anthony was just a bit too confused, even, to be angry about this. "What?"

“James,” she tried, then rushed on. “Claude. Bram.”

Wait. Was Bram even hers? No! … Probably not! Thank the Lord!

“Bram,” she buckled down on, for it meant he was not her problem. “You’ve gotten so tall! You look ...” blurry “so much like your mother!”

Shit, wait, his mother was dead. Her smile faltered into a cringe of her own.

what

Even though he was very certain at this point that he was either being made fun of or she just was really fucking drunk, and that she didn't even know who he was, the implication that Anthony is at least somewhat like his mother still made him cringe a bit.

"I don't—I don't know who the hell those people are," Anthony said. If her goal was to confuse and stress him out to this point, then she has won.

Oh, thank God he wasn’t related. She looked elated at his answer.

… Actually, he still might be related. And with that thought, her face dropped.

“You have a nice day, son-...” she cleared her throat. “… Not-son. Dear.”

Then she patted him on the shoulder, and turned back to the bar, her hand sliding into her purse and idly feeling the coins though she had no hope of accurately counting them.

Anthony was at an impasse with himself, now, as it seemed. On one hand, he had no idea anymore about what the hell is going on, and on the other he's still kind of fucking pissed.

But, he also didn't like her very much so he was mostly just pissed.

Anthony recoiled from the touch, very close to swatting her hand away, but she moved away before he could do that, sadly.

"What the hell?" he finally voiced his thoughts, now also going into the bar. Fuck all this—Anthony doesn't usually do shit to people because he's mad or confused, but her vibes are so bad that he might just have to make an exception. And he's still bitter about being elbowed in the stomach.