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table © Jenny/Kiri
OOC: o: Gaspeth!
For a moment things were silent. In that silence Sylvie found herself taking off her all but destroyed garment and folding it up as she stood there. She would rather be naked in front of the crowd than look like a complete ninny. Strel's words settled into her consciousness atop a large, soft sigh, as if she was simply ruining the party. Raising an eyebrow as she paused in her folding, the partially squared garment pressed against her waist. "That's a relief... I think." Indeed, relatively speaking wasn't completely sane. She eyed the waving bottle as the fellow shook it in her direction, careful not to spill even a small drop of the sloshing stuff. She blinked. What was that he had? She was thirsty...
At his offer for her to take a seat, Sylvie seemed to consider it a moment. Perhaps she could help the fellow stay sane like she had her foster mother? Always thinking of ways to help, Sylvie gracefully settled herself next to the flamboyant man, intrigued by his crazy red hair. Cherry red wasn't exactly natural, after all. As he settled into a rather long explanation of how he felt they knew each other from somewhere, Sylvie cocked her head to one side, a slender eyebrow rising. "Met...? I... don't recall meeting you personally. I did live here for awhile when I was a child though. Alaine Winters is my Foster Mother, and Ruri Aceline is my half-sister. Perhaps you see them in me...?" She shrugged. The three of them were all collies, and shared similar traits according to breed, barring of course, their vastly different coat colors. Ruri, after all, was silvery in her coloring, Alaine was cream and ivory, and Sylvie was a dilute chocolate lilac hue and white.
After a moment of silence, the man proceeded to nudge his bottle at her, offering a drink. What did he call it though? Ruhmm? "Some... what?" She asked curiously, slender fingers grasping the thick-glass bottle before tenatively looking at the liquid inside. It was an earthy sort of shade, and smelled vibrantly heavy, as if someone had compressed tense air into a drink, and added color. After a moment she gingerly tipped back the bottle and had her very first sip of alcohol. Her tongue buzzed, causing her eyes to narrow at the strange bottle of unusual drink. "I'm afraid I've never heard of or tasted this stuff." Ah, poor Sylvie, never to have experienced alcohol of any kind, let alone something as potent as rum. A few more sips and the lightweight young lady would be dancing in a fog.
But of course, Sylvie didn't know this, and neither did Strel. Alaine had never spoken of alcohol as anything besides something she used to handle extra ridiculous patients, as a sort of... sedative. Certainly, it would prove its use there in only a short while if Sylvie decidedly took a long draft from the bottle.