Perhaps, perhaps. [Maketh's vision is beginning to swim, everything going pleasantly soft around the edges. She likes the weight of Henry's arm looped through her own, the certainty of it as the world dances. Everything is moving right now except for him and Dorian. Dorian, who she's come to like in the brief moments that she's known him. He's charming. Has an easy sort of smile and a quick wit, even with all the tequila.
Yes, she likes these two.
Maketh bumps her head against Henry's shoulder in a drunken display of affection.] You are -- very good. Uh huh. Very good. Dorian! Isn't Henry good?
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Yes, she likes these two.
Maketh bumps her head against Henry's shoulder in a drunken display of affection.] You are -- very good. Uh huh. Very good. Dorian! Isn't Henry good?