Sweet is the wine but sour is the payment.
Irish Proverb

1961
Anastacia groaned heavily as she lifted her head off from the pillow, though it took all her willpower to do as much. When all she saw was a spinning room, she let it fall again as if it were leaden with heavy weights. For all she knew it was.
"Anastaaacia," she heard Rose saying, and Rose sounded way too chipper. It didn't seem to mesh with her pounding head. "Good morning, sleepy head."
"Fetch... cleric," Anastacia managed to mumble. "Dying."
Rose laughed. "Wow, you were completely serious, weren't you? You've honestly never been hung over before." Anastacia released a pathetic half mewling sound in response. "Had you ever really been drunk before even?"
"No," Anastacia grumbled. "I didn't think I could. What did you give me? Was it poison? Why did you poison me?" The words were mumbled into her pillow, but Rose somehow could understand them.
"It was fey wine," Rose said. "Elf wine, basically. They don't get drunk like humans, and well... I guess it just packs enough punch to take even you out."
"This is horrible," Anastacia groaned. "Why would anyone do this to themselves?"
"How much do you remember about last night?"
"There was a last night?"
Rose laughed again. "That's my girl. Some of it might come back to you and then you'll remember. You had a good time."
The horror of that sentence caused Anastacia's head to jerk up. "Wait, what? What did I do? Oh goddess, I didn't..."
"Relax," Rose said, pushing her back down. "You had a very G-rated you-style good time."
"Thank heavens for small favors."
"Ok, maybe PG."
"Rose!"
Rose grinned and a pillow whizzed at her head. She ran out of the room laughing, "Next time, we'll take pictures!"
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