Bethany fakes a half smile and wipes an almost tear from her face, passing it off as an itchy face scratch.

Yeah, totally. Let me just wash up and I'll meet you downstairs. I need it. I can drive also.

Jean nods in acceptance and leaves the room for Bethany to change and get cleaned up. In the bathroom Bethany stares into the mirror with disapproval at the thing looking back at her. Sunken eyes, greasy, matted hair from tossing and turning and crust in and around her face.

Nothings gonna happen, Bethany assured herself, it's gonna be a good day.