Mondstadt was... different. Where Fontaine prided itself structure and order above most other things, Mondstadt seemed to embrace the ebb and flow of life's challenges; Clorinde's yet to determine if that's a positive thing for her, but there's an immense amount of admiration that comes for the Knights that show a tenacity unlike many others she's worked with. One thing in particular that she can't keep up with, however... Their propensity for beverages of an alcoholic nature. She's never been one for such things, and though she's attempted to partake in what this nation is rather proud of, it seems that in the end, she can't stomach it. The man next to her-- Varka, the Grand Master, if she remembers correctly-- seems to be more than alright with how much he's downed. Gloved fingers trace the rim of her almost-full glass, brow arched as several patrons in the background create raucous noise that nearly makes her head throb. It would be rude to excuse herself now, though-- not when she was invited to join in festivities. A cultural exchange of sorts, she supposed. "Monsieur Varka, I find it quite impressive you're able to do such things when expected to be of sound mind the next day." Clorinde chuckles, removing her hat to place it on the counter in front of her. "As a Duelist, impairing myself would only lead to defeat. Perhaps worse, if careless enough. From what I understand, your duties involve the same risk." "I have never been one for this sort of thing. I suspect you have more than enough experience to know your limits." @favoniusblade