The day had been one Walter had never wished to have happened, in any fathomable stretch of his imagination, one that he just wished he could escape from, wake up in the morning, and it had never happened, like a ground hog day affect of sorts. When he had awaken, all was right with the world, even if he was laid up in a hospital bed, on the last day of held recovery from quadricep reattachment surgery. Walter still had a beautiful girlfriend that he loved, knew that she was capable of taking care of herself, and nothing in the world would change that.

And then, it had happened.

Returning to his dorm room after spending the entire night sobbing, wallowing in the pain of the death of Buffy at the cheerleader tryouts, and suffering a gigantic mental setback on top of everything going on with the situation, Walter let lose again with another torrent of tears. Having lost it at the scene when it had happened, again at the police department when he was arrested for assault for waylaying Trixie with a crutch after she had done the damage to Buffy, twice more in his family's home, his emotions would again be lost as he looked around the room. Even if she hadn't stayed there full time or anything, there was enough about the place that reminded him of her.

At first, his eyes were settled upon the entry way. There was plenty of times that she had walked into his room, and the two of them conversed, right then and there. The numbness started to creep back in to these memories, realizing he would not get to see her there again. Nothing was going to bring back that pleasantness.

Shifting his view over, they landed upon the beanbag chairs at the foot of his bed. The two of them had once spent a lengthy amount of time in them, just talking about life and things. He'd never have the chance to speak to her again, face to face. Inside, his stomach wrenched, from not having ate anything since the incident, and just missing her already.

His gaze next shifted up towards the bed, the bed he had been laid up in for quite a while. With being stuck there, Buffy had nursed him back to health, or so it was thought, after an encounter with members of his family. Chicken noodle soup, wound cleanings, all things he found her to be absolutely amazing at. She wouldn't be there for that either anymore. He began to falter more where he stood.

It'd be then and there that his eyes dropped down to a pair of boxers that were on his floor, right in front of a pet basket. Those were the pair he was wearing earlier in the week, when the two of them finally made their move. In all of his time around, as both his new self, and as Tinker, he had never willingly made love to any person. Buffy was that girl, the one he finally did that with. A feeling he never thought he would ever get to enjoy again, the kindred connection of the heart. Because his was still there...but hers was no longer beating.

At that point, his eyes then made it to Howard, who was waking up from the noise of him entering, and his current state of being upset. The animal companion that had been given to him by Buffy, shortly after he had come back and proven himself to be alright, something of a safety tool to prevent him from falling into old habits. Howard had been the closest thing to a best buddy he had his entire time attending classes, having spent nights walking the town with the duck on chain. Many people had come to meet Howard, and the two of them, at times, were like two peas in a pod.

However, at this time, that was not the case.

Howard was in one of his moods. The duck had earned the nickname of "The Mal-Tempered Mallard" for some of his exploits, mainly of attacks upon unsuspecting people that had been encountered upon the streets. Every once in a while, the duck would get a wild feather up it's ass for being in captivity, and have a go at Walter...like it was preparing to just now, Sensing vulnerability in the upset human, the duck raised up and began to flap it's wings up, almost in a offensive fashion.

Not moving an inch from where he was standing, Walter looked at the duck...the one that was Buffy's gift to him, and just shook his head, crying more. "She's gone, Howard...I failed her" he spoke, part of him feeling somewhat weakened. Without having taken a pain pill, his leg was throbbing in it's brace, not having meant to be up and about this much with it as a whole. Instead of getting to go home and rest after the tryouts, he had been everywhere else in creation.

The duck, on the other hand, gave absolutely zero fucks about what Walter had been through. It had no concept of human emotion, loss, or anything of that matter. Truth be told, it didn't even have a sphincter, so when excited like this, is was shitting on the way to bill the hell out of it's owner's already hurt leg.

This brought a howl of pain out of Walter, and the non weight bearing crutch up off of the ground, pulling down to clobber the duck. With the connection, there was a loud quack, and the sound of bones breaking beneath the force of the swing. The duck sputtered around where it had been hit hard by the metal walking aids, having it's wing and leg broken in one fell swoop. It even went in circles as it tried to figure out what to do, going into complete panic mode...shitting all over Walter's floor still.

Reaching down, Walter's hand would go to stabilize Howard's neck, turning him to look the duck eye to eye. "I'm sorry Howard..." he spoke, his tone numb, neutral, and not the normal. All the thoughts that the duck were supposed to hold at bay flooded his mind, Walter's guard was completely gone now,with his hope having died out on the field, thanks to an ordinary distillation effort on behalf of the Jack Daniels Distillery.

Walter's eyes stayed focused on the duck, as his hand grew tighter around the duck's neck, the squawking of it getting louder until he had closed off it's airway. "She's gone, Howard..." would be the last words that came out of his mouth before a violent jerk of his hand to the side would turn the duck's head violently. The squawking stopped, as did the circular movement motions. The head fell back limp as he continued to hold onto it, the tears not stopping. Letting it sit there for a few seconds in silence, he spoke up one more time as he reached for his cane...the one with the sword in hiding, ready to take off the dead birds' head. Those words?

"And so am I."