Clare was in the Dingoes, using her usual methods and not bothering to mask her indifference. Getting herself something strong – she didn’t care what it was – she took a seat and slowly registered the other people through barely open eyes. It was late, she was tired, and her thoughts were catching up with her. Sitting for a fair while just drinking, she considered what she was doing, and felt a sudden stab of loneliness. Inside was an emptiness, one she eventually saw reflected in an older girl, obviously drunk and sobbing quietly. Finding an ounce of pity in her sluggish mind, she finished three more shots of what tasted like bourbon, then standing slowly but surely, went over to her. In a quiet voice and ensuring she didn’t scare her, Clare’s breath gently caressed the hair near the girl’s ear.

“She's a pretty girl. She's always falling down.
And I think I just fell in love with her,
But she won't ever remember, remember.”

The girl stopped crying momentarily and looked at the complete random singing to her. Finding encouragement in the lack of hostility, Clare continued.

“And I can always find her at the bottom of a plastic cup.
Drowning in drunk sincerity.
A sad and lonely girl.”

“Plus forty four, I like them... Who are you?” she asked, but Clare disregarded the question and continued to sing, unable to interrupt the flow of words.

“Quit crying your eyes out.
Quit crying your eyes out and, Baby come on.
Isn't there something familiar about me?
The past is only the future with the lights on.
Quit crying your eyes out, Baby.”

Clare winked at the girl, noting that hearing the chorus had caused a smile to play unnoticed across her lips. Encouraged, she began the next verse, hoping the girl would cut in at the right time. “And she said…”

“I think we're running out of alcohol. Tonight, I hate this f**king town.
And all my best friends will be the death of me,
But they won't ever remember, remember.

So please take me far away, before I melt into the ground.
And all my words get used against me.”

Grinning outright at her participation, Clare smoothly began singing again with the last line of the verse, “This sad and lonely girl.”

Joining in with the last chorus, her words were slurred and in places wrong, but the girl smiled and her eyes shone with more than tears.

“Quit crying your eyes out.
Quit crying your eyes out and, Baby come on.
Isn't there something familiar about me?
The past is only the future with the lights on.
Quit crying your eyes out, Baby.

Quit crying your eyes out.
Quit crying your eyes out and, Baby come on.
Isn't there something familiar about me?
The past is only the future with the lights on.
Quit crying your eyes out.
Isn't there something familiar about me?
Quit crying your eyes out.
The past is only the future with the lights on.
So quit crying your eyes out, Baby.”

By the time the whispered song had ended the girl was staring at Clare with a strange look on her face, but she didn’t mind. At the very least there was no longer any sadness in her expression. Made bold by the alcohol she had consumed probably much too quickly, Clare bent down, kissed the girl softly on the cheek, then disappeared. Cloaked and feeling better than when she had come in, the warmth from the bourbon comforted her further as she walked out into the night.