The Paper Tiger
Okay... perhaps it was more than a little alcohol...
The barman refilled her glass when it emptied and she waved him to add more so the Hoxian couldn't actually judge how much she'd had to drink. Enough to feel like the world had loosened on its axis or maybe that was the stool, her posture and expressions more relaxed than usual. In fact, the alcohol had thawed her defenses enough that the barman earned a smile every time he did as he was bid.
At least she'd eaten this time and the wine wasn't anywhere near as potent as some of what she'd been drinking of late. In fairness, it was a wonder that she hadn't burned through her stomach over the past few weeks. Rosmilda didn't approve, of course, which was part of why Drezda was here; the bloody passive wasn't letting her near alcohol in the house. She kept hiding it and the diplomat was sufficiently leery of magic - keeping a respectful distance, really - these days that the galdor wasn't inclined to compel her with Perceptive. Throwing a tantrum, brief and undignified though it had been, also hadn't gotten results. So here she was, drinking in a bar in defiance of a magicless servant. A child.
It was all the little redhead's fault. Bloody, interfering child! She'd had to trick Drezda out of the house to see Khymarah, had forced her there against her will. It didn't matter what her intentions had been, it didn't matter how things had played out, it was the fucking principle of the thing! Besides, she was poison and she knew it. Better that she poison herself with alcohol, ease her own pains for awhile even though she'd have them plus interest in the morning.
She finished the end of the latest glass with a hiccup and waved a hand towards the glass.
"Another- Excuse me, another glass please," she hiccuped out, a hand coming to rest on her chest just below her throat where her blouse stood open. She waited to see if another hiccup would come, a small line appearing between her brows as she waited although she dredged up a smile as more alcohol was glugged into the glass.
Her fingers found the stem, curling around it gratefully, the tang of the alcohol quite pleasant to her nose now as she breathed it in appreciatively. She really ought to do this more often, propriety be damned and it wasn't as if she came across anyone she knew in any case. If she did then so what?
It was as she let the glass lip hover near her mouth, head turning lazily that she spotted a blonde head approaching the bar. The features were familiar. Why were they familiar? The glass went down, a finger pointing.
"I know you!" she announced, the tip of her tongue protruding slightly from between her teeth. She brought the finger back, touching it off her tongue as if to retrieve the answer there, keeping it there for a few moments as she thought. A dull click came from her fingers as they pushed past each other in an uncoordinated manner, a sputter of contact as she turned the finger back.
"It's Delacore, right? Cons-table Inspector, yes?" she checked, drawing out the syllables, a delighted little smile on coral lips as she realised that she had it. She was a politician for a reason clearly. Or being one had paid off, one or the other.