Lisa pours and downs herself some tequila, her straight liquor of choice. No salt or lime, just a straight shot, that leaves her to let out a sharp breath as it hits her.
"Sure. We can talk about it over dinner if you want. I'm planning on going out and stuffing my face with meat I can tear off skewers. Somewhere I can smash the plates would be good too." She manages a weak laugh, shaking her head at herself as she pours another shot.
She appreciates the concern, though. Really.
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