Mozrael went to take a bath at Lynnor's suggestion, leaving Aramith at the dining table alone with Lynnor. There were four empty bottles and three glasses on the table. He never thought of her as the type to drink.
How could she drink all these in that short time?
She poured herself a drink. "You look like hell, kid," she repeated
"And you look drunk." The smell irritated his nose.
"Come on, sit. Want a drink? I promise it's not poisoned, just good booze. Want a glass or a whole bottle?" She asked as she poured two glasses
Aramith didn't answer.
"You don't want one? Heh, s'pose I'll have all the good stuff to myself then."
She gulped it all down in one gulp, then realizing Aramith wasn't going to take the other glass, she downed it too.
Aramith just eyed her carefully, noticing how far gone she was. Even after five bottles, she could still talk straight—mostly. But her grip on the glass wavered, just slightly, and her smirk held a looseness it hadn't before.
