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"Hey. It's last call," he murmured into her ear, shaking her by the shoulder gently. The hands on the clock mounted on the far wall read a little past three, and he knew they both had work in the morning. "Up you get."
She'd passed right out against the bar with the half-empty glass, now warm and beaded with condensation, cradled in the crook of her arm. Isaiah had to smile a little at that, and the strangely-intense look of concentration on her sleeping face.
Well, he couldn't leave her here, and taking her back to his apartment was out of the question; for one, propriety and for another, there was barely any room for himself there. Come to think of it, he didn't actually know where she went when she wasn't at work.
"Alright," Isaiah said to himself with something between a sigh and laugh. He adjusted her arms around his shoulders, and snorted when she only clung tighter to him. At least she was getting some sleep. "Guess we're campin' out at Minvera's Den until you wake up, then."
