True to form, down easily had gone the second drink. After all, just a couple glasses of scotch could do little to faze such an experienced drinker as the Slytherin had become in her teenage years. While she had been still seeing Evan and he had found issue with her habits, she had cut back. She had even made it a point to be intoxicated less than fifty percent of the time when she was with Donovan. But old habits died hard, and after her latest beau had left it had not taken Cecilia long to regain her old tolerance. Throwing back a few glasses of liquor was simply child's play.
However, before she could even set down her second glass to mention to Alfred the prospect of a third, one was slid in front of her. The bartender leaned close, his aged face curled into a sly smile, and whispered something about a young new patron in the group of loud men down at the far end of the bar.
Cecilia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Things such as this were a common occurance that befell any decent-looking young lady who dared sit alone in a pub. It wasn't as if she was to complain about the free liquor--only about the idea that any man thought they had the slightest chance of getting anything in return.
Well, except her presence, that was. These men weren't good for much, but if there was one thing, it was that it gave her someone to attach to. Looking less pathetic and alone was always a plus, no matter the company with which one had to torture themselves.
A manicured hand lifted her gift from the bartop and she slid neatly off her stool, heels clicking on her way over to the boisterous group of young men. Clearing her throat, she arched a brow quizically as she raised her glass. "And whom am I to assume is responsible for this?"
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