Dave sat on his bed, clad in nothing but a towel, for a few minutes. Sifting through his thoughts, so deep he hadn't even thought of dressing himself. Why were his thoughts so centred on Kyra? He could've sworn something was wrong with him. Could it be, a wildcard come to change his ways?
But...the bottle was his friend...god...what the fuck was wrong with him? Trying to argue with himself that alcohol was more important than his band-mates.

Dave decided to take his mind off it, maybe it would pass and he'd return to normal. Dave was usually the type to "wait and see" with situations like this, if no solution presents itself, just wait and see.
But he couldn't help but be annoyed at this, he hated things happening to him that he had no knowledge of or control over. What would it do to the band? If they broke up, he'd just be a stinking, purpose-less bum on the streets, begging for some coins so he could fuel his habit. He'd rather die without the band...but would he die without the drink?

None-the-less, he dressed himself in a pair of light-grey jeans, a Blind Guardian T-Shirt (with the artwork from Tales From the Twilight World) and a pair of black, lace-up shoes, somewhere between skate-shoes and sneakers.

He came out into the living room, casting glances at Jack and Mel...he wasn't aware last night that they were out together, but he remembered they usually were out at the same time when Mel went to strip, and Jack went to meet her. But he was now aware that they hadn't come home last night.
Dave could swear he felt a different air between them. "Hi guys," he said quickly as he slipped into the kitchen to get some food.
The finest of microwaveable cuisine lay in the fridge and pantry. Taking a random soup, he put it in the microwave and waited, hoping to not stir up conversation about Jack and Mel's last night adventures.
Must've been rough, Mel looked roughed up, Dave couldn't help but laugh at the visuals, even through his efforts, you could hear him chuckling away at it.

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