Bastila was sitting up in bed back pressed against the headboard, a bottle in hand, and a look of pleasant aloofness. The expression looked strange (though not entirely unwelcome) on her normally serious face.
He grinned.
"You're drunk," Revan said, thinly veiled amusement present on his features.
She jumped, clearly startled and her head jerked toward him so fast he was surprised she had not sustained any serious neck injury.
"Oh I am not drunk!" Bastila protested loudly, her cheeks flushed and hair mussed as she giggled despite herself. The Jedi clapped a hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle unwanted laughter, glaring at Revan for having the audacity to even suggest that she would do such a foul thing as have a drink, much less drink so much to be considered drunk. She giggled again against her will as Revan entered the room with a smile and a brow raised.
Bastila lowered her hand from her mouth and brought it to her lap where she smoothed out the pillow laying there. She glanced up at Revan again, raising her head regally with closed eyes, her tone comically diplomatic.
"I am not drunk," She repeated.
Revan hummed his agreement and took a seat next to her on the bed.
"Not drunk at all then?" He affirmed.
"Of course not," Bastila said, in a would be convincing tone had she not been nodding.
"I thought so," Revan said, Bastila giggled in turn scooting a bit closer to him, "What's that you have there? " he asked, casually gesturing to the bottle clutched tightly in her grip.
Her giddy aloof expression quickly transformed into one of scandalized shock, she clutched the bottle ever closer, turning toward Revan her face inches from his own.
"Are you somehow insinuating that I am, in fact, intoxicated after I adamantly denied ever being under the influence? You might as well be calling me a liar," Her cheeks flushed more, "If you simply must know," She continued, pulling her head away from his bemused face and gesturing gracefully (as gracefully as one could in such an inebriated state) with the bottle, "Mission gave me a drink, non alcoholic mind you," She added and shoved the bottle beneath his nose to prove it.
Looking at her doubtfully he sniffed the nearly empty bottle. Smelling nothing out of the ordinary he took a swig (to a squawk of displeasure from Bastila who was not keen on sharing) the taste of the alcohol was well hidden. He only felt the slightest burning sensation as it went down his throat, settling warmly in the pit of his stomach. Bastila quickly snatched it back from him and took a generous gulp, scooting closer to Revan until their bodies were flush together.
"Between you and me," She started, her eyes darting suspiciously around the room (Revan couldn't help but follow her gaze) until they locked with his, "I think Mission spiked it with an alcoholic beverage," She finished in a dramatic stage whisper which was louder than her normal voice.
"The scoundrel!" Reven gasped, with mock incredulity.
"Indeed," Bastilla concurred, snuggling closer to him sleepily.
Reven allowed himself a warm smile as Bastilla's eyes fluttered closed, loosening her grip on the bottle. He gently grabbed the neck of the bottle, ready to put it on the nightstand, when she forcefully slapped his hand away.
"Mine,"