Out of all the times in her life to be sober, this really wasn't the best. She really wanted to just disappear into a drunken oblivion to get her head to stop spinning from everything (why the fuck had she put the ring---and the knickers, in her purse?!) Carys let out a breath and shook her head, taking the glass, "No, it's all right, I mean--nothing wrong with drinking pumpkin juice."
Maybe her sickness was from withdrawal. From the little (very, very little) research she'd done on...well, not drinking alcohol, it seemed like she could be going through like...oh, hell, she was just making up excuses. Anything sounded better than her brain melting out of her ears, which Carys was sure was going to happen if she didn't get herself fixed. Going to the healers was just going to confirm to her that she was dying, and she just really didn't need to hear that right now. Nope. But that was crazy, wasn't it? So maybe she did know that she wasn't dying, and was just scared and---bloody hell, she was crazy, she was just crazy as hell.
Drake was at fault for her current insanity, though. How the hell could she bring any of this up without looking like she'd been snooping like---like a crazy person! There was that word again! She took a long drink, figuring, what the hell. He couldn't think she was any more nuttier than he already did,
"So, I went back to your flat to get my earrings," she shook her head back and forth to make them jingle softly, "and I found a pair of pink knickers that weren't mine." Carys took another drink and eyed him over the rim. Really, it was the only way to say it, right? Drake always beat her in arguments with his stern stares and placid tones. She could play this game too.
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