"How many drinks is that?" Qifrey questioned, curiosity more than judgment. The glass of wine was half-full and it rippled, a small crimson tide, as Olruggio reached for his answer. There was a hollow clack as his nails fumbled against the bottle before grasping the neck. He lifted it as though he would pour another and only a single thick, sluggish drop joined the wake below. "A whole bottle?"
"N't yet." Though Olruggio's words slid together like tracks in the snow, though he was as certain as always. The cup hit his lips naturally and he swallowed near half of it. "Almost."
"I see." Qifrey settled across the table from him, taking the empty bottle as he sat, placing it safely out of knocking reach. "Is there a reason for tonight's libations?"
"It's…night," Olruggio pushed himself partially from his slouch, fixing Qifrey in his gaze, though it seemed to be a difficult task. "Isn't that reason 'nough?"
