By the time he'd made it around the bar and to her side, she'd found some of her stubbornness, and her chin tilted defiantly upwards as she weaved toward the door, speaking loudly. "Oh, no! You're not gonna be like Daniel 'n only want me 'round to protect'ed me," she insisted, all Texas slur.
Even still, she grabbed for the fabric of the shirt at his waist when the room spun particularly quickly, her fingers fisting in fabric to remain upright. "Feel sick," she muttered, because she did. Ella was a drunk who couldn't hold her liquor, unfortunately for Will.