It was a night of firsts, for both Meg and Christine. Some way or another, they ended up in a pub in a not-so-high-class part of Paris—a pub that scum like Joseph Buquet would go to, Christine realized, looking back on it. Both of the blondes had just a bit too much brandy, and…well…
"Chrizztine, whah dun you get on up there and sing us somethin'?" asked Meg, gesturing with her glass to the counter. The brandy in her glass sloshed all over her wrist and forearm as she did so, not that she seemed to care. She laughed and took another large gulp of it as Christine let out a drunken giggle. "G-Great idea, M-Meg…" Christine stuttered, standing and stumbling over to the counter, just as she had done so many other times that night to get another drink.
This time, however, Christine wasn't aiming for another drink. Somehow, she managed to climb up on a chair and face the rest of the pub-goers, raising her arms into the air. "Shh! Quiet…quiet! Chrizztine's gonna put on a show!" scolded Meg. Everyone fell silent, their eyes on Christine.
Christine, up on her chair in front of the bar, nodded her thanks to Meg. "Yes…yes, ah…ah'd like to sing you l-lovely folks a…a small ditty from an opera called…er…Meg, help me out here."
"Carmen!" she shouted with a grin.
"Riiiight…that's the one." she nodded and set her drink down, clambering on all fours onto the counter and shoving her rear end incidentally into one of the poor men's faces. After a minute, she regained her balance and was able to stand on her two legs alone, though she stumbled slightly in either direction every now and then. Clearing her throat, she launched into a very off-key, very drunken rendition of Habanera.
She only made it partway through the song when she began to wobble. "L'amour!" she sang, including overdramatic hand gestures. "L'amour!" Christine nearly fell forward onto the men sitting at the bar who had a rather nice view directly up her skirt. They pushed her back up onto the counter, and she continued. "L'amoooooour!" She threw her hands up in the air grandly. "L'a—" This was cut off by Christine toppling backwards behind the bar, completely and utterly unconscious.
Meg stood and brought her hands together loudly, amongst the absolute silent of the rest of the people at the bar. "B-Brava, Chrizztine, brava!" she fell into the table but caught herself, draining the last of her brandy. "Encore!" she cried, slowly but surely making her way to the bar with her empty glass. "Wuzzn't she lovely?" Meg asked once she reached the bar, looking around at the burly men about her. "Tha…tha's my friend." She nodded twice and then slammed her glass down on the counter, looking to the bartender. "Now, good m'sieur, if you wudn't mind…I'd like s'more brandy."