She took from her own glass and pondered just what she hoped to achieve here. Nothing short of some memory charms would take the pain of his actions away, but Fallon wasn't very well versed in memory work. Plus, doing so on an unwilling (she assumed) participant would be even more difficult. What, then? It wasn't as though she could escort him home (where did he live, anyway?) or request someone else help him. Hell, he wasn't even going to talk to her it seemed.

"I was there," she admitted. "I, uh, won box tickets at the last minute." It was a whole tale, one Fallon suspected he wouldn't be the least bit interested in presently. A long silence stretched then, for what was there to say? In lieu of continuing on, she took another sip of her drink.