Mabelle hadn't started off the evening drinking or even intending to, but as the night carried on and Michel kept offering them to her, it became increasingly difficult to say no. Her avoidance of alcohol wasn't that she disliked it, but that perhaps she liked it a bit too much, and her own limits were much lower than Michel's. Only a glass or two in and she was feeling rather tipsy, but pleasantly so and it made talking to people easier when Michel had selfishly abandoned her. Social situations could be overwhelming even after a few drinks, and by the end of the night she was more than ready to leave.
She tried sticking as close as possible to Michel the entire evening, mostly because he was the only person there that she knew well. On one occasion that Michel had stepped away, Mobius was quick to step in- a situation that could have ended badly, but he had kept their exchange brief and Michel hadn't seemed to notice. She hadn't said much to Mobius, which was probably a bad idea in hindsight, because it gave him more time to talk and now she couldn't get his words out of her head. How he picked up on so much with so little evidence baffled her, and she wasn't sure if he was overly observant or if he had some source of information on them.
Stumbling slightly as the toe of her shoe caught the uneven ground, Mabelle grabbed for Michel's arm but didn't see the need to let go even after steadying herself again. In the cold, it was nice having somebody else to stay close to. Not really remembering where they were going, just remembering Michel had talked and she watched more than listened, she trusted him to lead the way.
"His story wasn't that funny, I didn't get why he kept laughing," she admitted with a sigh.