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This was absolutely ridiculous, and Molly was enjoying every single moment of it.
Nott's cloaked head barely reached his midsection as he pulled her across the floor. He giggled drunkenly as she spun underneath his arm.
"You're quite good at this, aren't you?"
Her large, yellow eyes flashed up at him from under her hood.
"Really?"
"Oh, sure. You're a natural. Especially because of the fact that you're absolutely hammered."
As he said this, Molly glanced up at the rest of the tavern. Just a few feet away, Caleb and Jester were twirling in clumsy patterns. Jester was laughing at Caleb's drunken concentration. Fjord was nowhere to be seen, probably in some alley puking his guts out. Beauregard was leaned comfortably against a pillar outside of the dance floor, watching this with a lazy scowl on her face that was threatening to break into a smirk. Molly's eyes caught Beau's from across the room. He gave her an over exaggerated wink and a fanged grin. She raised one finger in response. Grinning, he turned his head back down towards the goblin.
"You did such a good job tonight, Nott. I'm so proud of you," Molly said warmly.
"Oh, you too, you were great!" Nott replied. He couldn't see her face behind the doll's mask, but he could hear the toothy grin.
A warm feeling bubbled up in his chest. These were just the drunken ramblings of acquaintances (friends?), but he felt elated all of a sudden. The alcohol hummed in his veins.
"Couldn't have won without you, little one." He patted the top of her head softly.
The rest of the dance continued, with only small giggles breaking the comfortable silence. Eventually, they stopped spinning and bowed theatrically to each other.
Out of the corner of his eye, Molly saw a flash of brown and blue. Turning his head, he caught sight of Caleb breaking away suddenly and stumbling backwards. Jester, looking concerned, followed him immediately and helped him up the stairs. Nott made a startled noise and an aborted motion to follow.
"He's probably going to be fine, right?" Her scratchy voice seemed tentative and unsure.
"O'course he will. She can take care of him. She's a cleric, don't forget."
"You're right, she can do healing magic." Nott says. Then after a moment of silence. "She can do healing magic right?"
Mollymauk blinks for a moment, his brow furrowed in drunken thought. "I...think?"
"I better follow." Nott moves past him, slipping into the shadows.
Molly shrugged and made his way over to Beau, grinning at the sulking figure. "Havin' fun there, Beau?"
She turned her gaze towards him, her eyes working to focus on him.
"Hell yeah, man we won." She slurred.
"Is it alright if I try something?" He asked, an idea drifting through his foggy mind.
Beau's eyes narrowed and a slight look of disgust crossed her features.
"No no no, nothing like that."
"I will fucking punch you if you try to kiss me," Beau said. "Like, I know I'm attractive-"
Molly cut her off, "How are your hangovers normally?" He was silent for a moment then added, "Whatever team you're on I'm not sure I play for that one."
Beau snorted and Molly felt that same warmness soak into his chest.
That night, he dreams of familiar faces lit up by fireworks and wreathed in delicate flowers. Faces red from alcohol laughing and dancing in a giddy whirl around him.
The next morning he wakes with a headache pounding against his skull and a singular thought.
Oh shit, he loves these morons, doesn't he.