Wiping her mouth Sophia finished the second shot dead last. She set the glass down shakily, not being nearly this heavy a drinker usually. She silenced her liver's uneasy protest and followed the group back to their original table.
They all slumped down back into the chairs and noticed that Alatariel was still sitting there, her head down on the table. Sophia gazed at her for a while, trying to sort out what had put her to sleep. After a while her eyes lighted on the empty glass and the nearly empty bottle of Mudwater beside it. Sophia suddenly understood. Alatariel let out a weak snore.
She turned her attention back to the awakened group. Chicken was looking cozy in Thoriel's lap and she was lazily petting him, while gazing at her empty shot glass wondering where all the whisky had got to.
Fin, apparently jealous of Chicken and Thoriel's cozy arrangement, put his arm around Sophia's shoulders and pulled her closer. She flopped limply into his lap and lay there, looking up at him, and past him at the ceiling, vaguely wondering if anymore fireworks were going to go off.
Fin spoke from somewhere above her, and she felt his hands gently tugging on her hair. "I'm afraid your flowers have been smashed, my dear." Sophia giggled, reaching up to the top of her head and pulling down one of the crushed red blossoms. She stared at it giddily before handing it back up to him. He moved his hand to take the flower from her, but she frowned and caught it back. Pulling it down to her mouth she kissed it lightly. "That's mine." she slurred.
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The seasons fall like silver swords, the years rush ever onward; and soon I sail, to leave this world, these lands where I have wander'd. O Elbereth! O Queen who dwells beyond the Western Seas, spare me yet a little time 'ere white ships come for me!
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