Carys pointed a stiff finger to reprimand his incorrect name calling, but she didn't particularly feel like being much of a Parkin these days. She dropped her hand to his shoulder, eyeing him as she tried to figure out how serious his question really was.
"A bottle of milk--what kind of drink, sheesh! You're wasting my valuable time, Lynch," Carys said with a laugh, sulking forward as she pulled away from him and stared out at the party. Perhaps she could use her superior eye-contact-making skills to bring a waiter over, or maybe even summon a bottle from across the way. Surely there would be no problem with a glass bottle shooting at high speeds across a crowded party, yeah?
Bollocks. Carys slumped a little more before she shot up and twisted to face Michal, crossing her legs underneath her. Her spring dress (DRESS!) and flowing-in-the-wind hair gave a completely different impression than her current state actually was, and Carys preened for a moment. She felt nice and pretty for the first time in weeks.
"You ready for the season? Any top secrets from Falmouth I can try to get out of you?" she poked him in the side, causing herself to let out a loud laugh, which was cut short by a throbbing pain in her ribs. Carys continued to grin, but pressed her hand to the spot to apply some pressure. "I bet I could get my darling Howell to spill."
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