kαıηє {нคяd тσ Ъε รσƒт, тσugн тσ Ъε тεหdεя}

"Possibly you're right." Bert pulled a face, draining his own cup and reaching out to pluck hers out of her hand. "Not that red isn't your colour, but that kind of warmth can't be a good sign. You don't drink much, do you?" Teasing, but only gently. If he'd known she was this susceptible to alcohol, he probably wouldn't have offered her wine in the first place.

"Come on," he said, after a moment. "We should get out from under the cooks' feet."