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Fearne sat in the corner of the pub, her kind eyes drooping more than usual due to the alcohol. Orym had left a bit ago to sit on the roof, which had left Fearne in charge of the group for the time being. Opal had been wandering about, mostly charming the various patrons with her drunken questions. Across the bar, Dariax and Dorian were in heated, drunken discussion, and Fearne got the impression from what snippets she could overhear that even they didn’t know what they were debating.
Fearne’s attention was caught as when, out of the crowd, pushed a heavily inebriated, disheveled Opal. Her usually perfect, iridescent hair hung loose in a way Fearne knew she would never have permitted were she fully sober. Her signature pink jacket had been abandoned with Dariax who was wearing it around his hips, and Fearne had to admit that he looked quite good in it. Drunkenly, Opal tottered over to Fearne, almost tripping on the way, before throwing herself into her lap as if it were just another chair.
“Fearne,” Opal slurred, a bright smile across her flushed cheeks.
“Hello Opal,” Fearne responded with a soft smile.
Opal looped her arms around Fearne’s neck and squirmed around in her lap to get comfortable, making herself at home in a way that was so distinctly her. “Some guy challenged me to a drinking contest.”
Fearne raised her eyebrows and took the opportunity to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “Oh, you mean Dariax? I was there for that.”
Opal’s eyes widened. “That’s who it was. Well anyway, I won and it was super awesome.”
Opal’s breath smelled of alcohol stronger than Fearne had ever tried. As Opal nuzzled into her neck drunkenly, Fearne responded, “It was very awesome.”
Suddenly, Opal shot her arms up in the air and leaned back to whoop, “I am the greatest!” Before promptly turning over in Fearne’s lap to vomit on the ground.
With a sympathetic chuckle, Fearne held back her hair and rubbed her back, though the position was a bit awkward.
A moment later, Opal relaxed fully and Fearne propped her back up into a sitting position. “‘M sleepy, Fearny. W’nna go to bed.”
“Ok honey.” Fearne wiped Opal's smudged eyeliner away with her thumb.
And with that, Opal curled into her lap fully, face pillowed unsubtly on her boob, and fell into a drunken slumber. After a moment of uncertainty, Fearne wrapped her soft arms around her waist, both to keep her secure, and to keep her close.
With a blush, Fearne rested her chin on Opal’s shoulder and looked out at the rest of the tavern.