(The night of Ama Clutch's funeral, for those who don't know)
They all crammed into a booth in the Peach and Kidneys, laughing, shouting, making merry.
The giggling.
The drinking.
The saffron cream.
Glinda scooped some of it onto a spoon and put it to Ephaba's lips.
She had obtained obscene levels of courage from the obscene ammount of alcohol she had consumed.
She'd bit at Shenshen's finger playfully when the brunette had dipped a cream-covered digit into her mouth. She had daringly placed her own fingers at Fiyero's mouth, offering the treat.
But it was when a bit of the cream she had spooned to Elphie's lips remained uncaptured by the green girl's tongue that Glinda took a leap of faith (or perhaps a lapse in judgement)
and ran her own tongue over the desert on Elphie's upper lip.
She could feel the wetness pooling between her legs.