The tables were starting to turn. Despite the odds, Regan was starting to distantly feel bad for Kat. Not for what she’d done, necessarily, but for what Kat had suffered because of it. Regan had no understanding of how relationships worked, having not even been witness to one before. But she knew what hurt looked like, and she saw it now.

Regan didn't let it show, though. She just sat there, snatching her pants out of the air as her face started to go a little less sour. “Because…” Now the answer to this question was a little more complicated. Regan took a moment to cipher through it. To put all the disconnected pieces together in her jumbled little mind. “Because he didn’t want me - not really. I was just...there and he just got confused. Turned around. And I’m not tryna ruin anybody’s life over an upside-down moment.” Regan shrugged, wanting to be anywhere but here.

Regan was starting to get frustrated. Not with Kat, but with the fact that she wanted to lie down now and didn’t seem to be getting even a little bit close to making that happen. “Look,” Regan said, serious face coming in full force, “You saw him at the fuckin’ bar, drinking, whatever thing. Yeah, he got a little flirty because - I don’t know because he did because he could - but he walked right back to you, right?” Regan wouldn’t wait for Kat to say something, just long enough for her to remember.

“I wouldn’t flatter myself to think it was anything other than that. But only this time it’d be something he couldn’t take back, which is why I called it,” Regan shrugged, turning away from Kat and quickly putting on her underwear as if she couldn’t see if she moved fast, talking all the while, “I mean - take a good look. Obviously, I’m not some fuckin’ temptress that gonna make Fabian’s eye wander. It had nothing to do with me, or you for that matter. It was just something he did. Like when you have an itch and reach to scratch it without thinking because it feels nice. It’s not a calculated choice; because if it was, no way he would have kissed me in the first place. So if you want my two cents…” Regan had no doubt that Kat most certainly didn’t, but she was trying to vomit out as many words as possible on the off chance that they might be the right ones.

“He loves you. Clearly. And that’s a whole lot more than most people have. So yeah. Be pissed. Make him suffer. All reasonable. But at the end of the day,” Regan shrugged, “I wouldn’t think about it too much.”

Regan had to resist rolling her eyes. No, she didn’t expect a thank you, obviously, but she did expect to be left the fuck alone in the future. She turned her back to Kat, slipping on her trousers, struggling a little with the button as her fingers just didn’t want to comply. She’d almost gotten it when Kat’s question made her stop midmotion. Now, this wasn’t something she’d been expecting.

Regan turned back to face Kat, arms crossed over her chest for modesty’s sake. She stared dumbly for a moment, trying to process the query with all the brainpower she could muster. “I don’t know,” Regan finally replied, grumbling demeanor replaced by defeat, “Like you said, I’m a beggar and a whiner. Obviously - cause this is what I’ve got going on,” She looked to the mirror, where the blindfold still hung limp, “At least when Fabian kissed me I could pretend it was…I don’t know…something real. Even though it wasn’t, pretending is nice.” Regan shrugged, hands still cupped over her chest. “Can I have my shirt now?”

Regan waited for her to toss it, hand outstretched as she tried futilely to hide beneath her other arm. When she realized that Kat was going to make her come get it, she huffed and grumbled, shuffling over in an undignified manner as she tried to keep her trousers from falling to her ankles. Regan snatched her shirt from Kat’s hands and slipped it over her head, this time not bothering to turn away. Let her look. Not much to see, anyway.

Once she’d tucked her shirt in, she still struggled with the button, swearing as her fingers kept shaking. “I know this probably isn’t the best time to ask,” Regan was partially stalling for time as she fought with the button, partially asking an earnest question, “But can you, uh, not bring up that I get up to the whole begging whining thing? Like to anyone? Ever?” Regan finally got the button, making a tiny sound of victory before she looked up at Kat, eyes big and expression sheepish. “It’s, uh, not a good look.”

Fair enough - Regan didn’t to be known, anyway. At the mention of Grant, she managed to turn red again. Excellent. She distracted from the fact by leaning down and pulling on her boots, not bothering to tie the laces, and instead just tucking them inside. Starting to get woozy, Regan took the cup she was handed and chugged it. There was a moment when she thought she was going to throw up but managed to keep everything down.

“Next time: sober as a judge, quiet as a mouse. Got it.” Regan picked up her cloak and slung it over her shoulders, pulling the hood comedically low over her face. “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Mostly,” Regan grumbled, “I can see my feet. So long as nobody sees me. That’s what counts.” She’d keep her hood where it was, waiting for Kat to lead the way.

Regan bristled, not trying to push her luck by responding too sharply. She shot Apollo a dirty look from under her hood, but he didn’t notice. Not that she could see him too well anyway. “I’m well aware of that, thank you,” Regan grumbled, about to add something else, but then thinking better of it. As not to prove Kat’s point for her, she stepped carefully down each stair, taking more time then was likely necessary. Not that she cared if she was holding Kat up - the woman could wait an ice age for all she cared.