“Bah, we are not talking about my wedding,” Katya said as she handed Iris the vodka bottle. She uncorked the Rosa Regale and looked about for cups. She didn’t see any, but she wasn’t far enough gone to simply start drinking from the bottle. Not that it would take her long to get there. Russian though she was, she wasn’t known for her ability to hold liquor. But that wasn’t about to stop her tonight. Practicality wasn’t something she was interested in. She was, however, very interested in getting as drunk as possible as quickly as possible. “But it was good wedding,” she added, gesturing dismissively with her unoccupied hand. “The dress I had? It has the diamonds sewn on it.” Half of her wanted to sell it. Half of her wanted to keep it for the rest of her life.
“But you. How was your night? I am to guess it was as awful as mine.” If the other stories had any indication, at least. That one poor girl – Rosie? – had been swimming in a fish bowl. “And if you are to be catching up, you will need glasses. Do you have the small ones?” There would be nothing but shots if Katya had her way. Yes, one could get blissfully drunk by drinking a glass of wine. But one could kick oneself straight to oblivion with a few quick shots.