Felix sat down at the bar, his hand circled around his glass. Was he losing his edge? Was he really that weak? He couldn't believe himself.. out here.. in the open, with only a hood to hide his face, and he was getting drunk. No.. more then drunk, he was plastered now. The room was spinning, and he laid his head on the counter, half hoping he could drink himself into alcohol poisoning. Maybe then he could forget the fact that everyone in the world, except for his girlfriend, hated his guts. And even then.. Naomi had her pack.. she spent so much time with them, that he could have cried outright in frustration. Her pack was everything to her, and he... he was the soppy little house husband who cooked dinner, and made it nice and sparkly clean for her when she got home.
Even after their fight... when he had hurt her.. seeing her in pain like that.. it made him nearly sick.. and then just before that.. looking at Maggie.. seeing her hurt, it had killed him inside. He had thrown up, fallen to the floor, clutching his stomach as he heaved knowing what he was feeling, and to afraid of it to admit it. Felix stared into his glass, and saw his own reflection. His jaw was set, his hair was slightly damp with sweat, and he wanted nothing more then to throw his hood off and drink himself down into a hole, but he knew that to pull his hood off would be death. Who knew what kind of muggle and wizard police were after him... he had posters up everywhere.. he had a 10,000 Galleon price on his head.. he was wanted... and people wanted to find him, and either kill him, or send him straight back to the Dementors..
What really sucked about the whole situation was, he had had a chance to get better.. to live a life that came as close to normal as he could get. But before he could grasp the fact that he could have lived... he had been broken out of jail, and now he worked for Grindelwald, as the most feared torturer. So... where did the remorse come in? Was it thinking about that poor Chase girl he had tortured not long ago.. seeing her terrified sobbing eyes, staring up at him as he sliced into her skin with a razor blade, or was it the little fifteen year old he had now... chained to a wall, a stab wound in her stomach keeping her from having the will to escape. So why did he feel so lousy? He had his girlfriend. he had a plaything.. so why couldn't he be happy with that? It helped that he had no other friends, and his will to be bad lessened by the hour. So now.. he sat here, drinking his sorrow away, wondering what would happen if he just lost control and killed everyone in the bar, watching their faces die... lashing them to the walls, and hearing their screams, killing them all before the cops could come..
The seconds thoughts like these popped into his head though.. pain flung through his body, and he had to clutch at the counter, his wand clutched in his hand. At one point the bartender noticed, and came over worriedly. "You okay pal?" He growled, and suddenly saw Felix's face. "Confundo." he muttered and watched the bartender look at him, then walk away, going to another customer to fill up their glass.