wallflower

The pop of the fire coincided with the approach of a very dainty male who - to her humor and surprise - bowed low to the ground upon greeting. "Oh! Well, some company would be just fine," she murmured. Theo had already drunk her fill - she was pleasantly buzzed, warm and bubbly, without that unsettling and delirious feeling that came with drinking too much. Try as she might, small wolves still made her feel uncomfortably massive. She thought she'd be used to it by now, what with Samara and the smaller children that had come from her relationship with Rhyme, she couldn't shake the feeling that they she would step on them by accident. He had intricate face markings that had her staring for a moment longer than she would have if she was sober. "Your face..." she started, then trilled a short laugh of embarrassment at herself. "I'm sorry for staring - it's quite striking." And I am now quite drunk. The last sweet wave of mead rolled through her body, pushing her off the ledge of tipsy into the vastness of utterly sloshed.