After Fen's departure, Angelina felt frazzled. Suddenly dancing didn't seem like so much fun anymore. She graciously took her glass of mulled wine and sat down for a spell. Kane, ever the gentleman, apologized profusely for his brother's "whiplash inducing" dance technique, and sensing her turned mood took his leave to allow her some space. He smiled softly "If you feel up for another dance, I will be at the firepit." He bowed and left her to her thoughts.
She drank her wine and stewed... Who did Fen think he was? Rag-dolling her around like that on the dancefloor, making a spectacle. She massaged her bruised wrist. Fuck that guy. And the paranoid-ass horse he rode in on. She considered finding Kane to salvage what was left of the quickly spoiling night but though better of it, and opted instead for another round of wine.
At the cask, the young lady who was pouring smiled apologetically at her approach. The crowd had dispersed seemingly having had there fill and Angelia worried that it might be gone.
"I'm so sorry my Lady," the young girl bowed.
"Aww, am I too late?" She asked glumly.
"Not exactly." She seemed to fumble for words. "We still have plenty of wine, but I'm afraid I've run out of glasses!" Angelia looked back to the table where she'd just left hers only to see it being scooped op on to a tray by a smartly uniformed waiter and carried off to the scullery. Damn.
She turned back to the young bar maid, and notice a table with a few slim, beautifully fluted jugs on it behind her. "Can I have one of those then?" She pointed at the table.
"A-a carafe?" The girl seemed confused. Those are for serving a whole tables' worth of glasses. They hold at least six apiece!"
Angelina smiled. "that'll do."