"Then we should get good seats," Ereshkigal retorted. All the good tables were taken, but that didn't phase her in the least. She was Queen of Irkalla: what she wanted, she got. Always. So a few moments later, after a harsh look and a divine push, a group of middle-aged women vacated a place near the stage. Ereshkigal promptly claimed it.
Once they had settled in, she caught the eye of a cute waiter and knew he'd be on his way to take their order within seconds. While she waited, she turned to see where the bride-to-be and her friends were. Perfect. Close enough to observe, far enough away the shrieking giggles wouldn't give her a splitting headache.
"I've never understood that," she admitted to her niece. "The "one last fling" thing. If you are not willing to commit to the person you've chosen, then you shouldn't have accepted the proposal. Unless it's an open relationship sort of situation, of course. But I have never once felt deprived in being only with Nergal." A very satisfied look crossed her face then. "He makes certain of that."