It's amazing how quickly a drink can become a pint, and a pint half a bottle. Likely more than half. Antoinetta was generous - she seemed to sense my frustration and always shoved the bottle back to me after a quick sip. Hours passed. It could have been afternoon or midnight - I could no longer tell the difference in the sanctuary, and with sweet honey on my lips and a lovely floaty feeling starting to bubble up inside me, I no longer cared.

Antoinetta grinned. "You're drunk."

"You're drunk," I accused, frowning as I weighed the bottle in hand. "This is empty. When did it get empty?"

"When you drank it all." She shifted, crossing her legs and giving a triumphant smirk as I glared.

"You helped."

"Hardly at all!" She pouted, little red lips pressing before she burst into giggles, eyes shining. "What's your worst fear?"

I blinked, trying to keep up as my head swam. "What?"

"That's what you're supposed to share when you're drunk!" She chuckled, biting her lip and giving me a squeeze. "Mine is being buried alive. I once had to do that to a man for a contract, and the sounds he made!" She shuddered, then continued to giggle. "Well? Woss yours?"

I frowned, shaking the bottle as though expecting that to miraculously fill it anew. "Swear you won't tell anyone?" Antoinetta became grim, nodding solemnly. I persisted, scowling further and crossing my arms. "Cross your heart, hope to die?"

"Stick a dagger in my eye." She gave a deep bow of her head, hand over her heart. I nodded, satisfied, before flushing.

"It's, um. It's falling. You know, from towers, or buildings or - or trees…"

"So you're scared of heights?" She grinned, getting up to move to the cupboard. I scowled.

"I am not scared of heights. I am scared of the splat at the end of them, which is a perfectly reasonable thing to be scared of, thank you."

"Oh, of course." She couldn't seem to keep from giggling, covering her mouth with one hand. "Perfectly reasonable. What makes you scared of them?"

I bit my lip, examining the label on the bottle and trying to figure out precisely why it seemed to be written in Dwemeri. "Ah? Oh." I hiccuped, nose twitching. "When I was small - well, not really small, nearly a teenager - when I got mad I used to climb up a tree that stood over the lake of our manor's grounds." I nodded to myself in memory, oblivious as Antoinetta stood to grab another bottle. "Threw fireballs at the lake. Helped me calm down, you know, seeing the flames bounce off the water…"

"And?" Antoinetta cracked open a bottle, offering it to me and giggling as I tried to snatch it and missed entirely. "Here." She pressed the bottle into my hand, cold glass in my palm. I took another neat swallow, trying to keep the bottle from jumping out of my hands and onto my robes.

"And one night, I climbed especially high. Didn't want anyone to find me." I scowled. "Well, it worked. No one found me until morning, dangling upside-down from the branches with my dress and hair all tangled in the leaves." I shuddered at the memory, the lovely bubbly feeling popping. "Dangling like that all night, the ground so far away, having to get rescued by a specially hired mage since we didn't have a tall enough ladder…"

"Fascinating. Simply fascinating."

I jerked, cursing as I spilled mead onto my robes and scowling over my shoulder. Lucien prowled, moving behind me as Antoinetta bowed her head.

"G-good evening, Speaker." She stood to give a clumsy bow. "How may I serve?"

Lucien glanced between us, at the bottle I held and smirked. "If you are quite done chatting, I would like to have a word with Dust." He turned his gaze on me, wry and amused. "If you are capable of coherent speech…"

I glared, swallowing a hiccup. "I'm fine." I glanced up as Antoinetta scurried away, frowning. "She's scared of you. Why is she scared of you?"

A snicker. "You're not?"

"Not in the least." I crossed my arms as he took Antoinetta's seat, trying to pat dry the lap of my robe with my sleeve. "You're an overstuffed, self-important smug Imperial pig. Also…" I frowned, gnawing my lip as I tried to remember precisely what made this man so undesirable. "…You're a murderer. Right, that."

He chuckled. "And?"

"And…" I took a sip from the bottle, giving a little hiccup and scowling at myself, searching for reasons why I disliked him. He's not unpleasant looking. The eyes, that little bit of muzzle. No, no, that's no good. I smirked triumphantly as I spoke. "And you look terrible in black. Terrible. Washes you right out."

"I see." He folded his hands calmly. I frowned, confused. He should have been reeling from that wit. "You are aware, of course, that I am escorting you to your new home tomorrow - ah, this morning?"

"This morning?" I blinked. "But I haven't slept… haven't even…"

"Which is why I suggest you rest while you can." He stood, still giving that little smirk before shrugging. "Or not. Simply don't expect my pity when I am forced to drag you out of bed in a few hours."

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it?" I sipped, grimacing at the memory of his frost spell. "No spells this time."

"I promise nothing." He frowned, raising a brow. "I heard your little talk with Antoinetta. Afraid of heights?"

"The splat at the end. The splat. And you owe me a new pair of robes." I narrowed my eyes, giving what I hoped was a menacing gaze as I tried to mop up the mead. He shook his head, laughing darkly.

"I'll tell you what, pet." He put a hand on my shoulder, a shiver creeping down my back. "I'll buy you a new set of robes, if you'll do me a little favour."

"Oh." I shifted uncomfortably as the cold liquid seeped through my robes. "Okay. Wait, what favour?"

A satisfied smile, a cat's whiskered smirk. "I haven't decided yet. I will in due time, my dear." His hand pulled away, the little shiver moving from my shoulders down my spine. "Once again, I suggest you get to bed. And do leave some alcohol for the rest of us, won't you?"

I stared after him as he left, trying to burn a hole into the back of his skull. Bastard. I staggered to my feet, frowning at the bottle and carefully putting what remained on the table, rubbing my brow as I made my way to bed. I was going to regret this, undoubtedly. When I was sober enough to realize my own stupidity, to curse agreeing to owe him a favour.

I scowled, slipping out of my cold robes and into bed, staring at the ceiling. Better be a damn nice set of robes.