"First he tries to slut-shame me... Friend shame me? Well, whatever, you heard what he said. And now you are giving me shit about my awesome singing voice. This is either the weirdest birthday ever or you both are trying to see just why you don't annoy the person pouring the drinks." she teased back, opening the bottle D'Arthur sent her first. "And hardly ever isn't never, it isn't even mostly. I'm about as much fun drunk as I am sober, which is tons if you were wondering, though maybe I could spend an afternoon getting plastered for your enjoyment sometime, just don't let me try to climb things or take off my clothes. But it still isn't a good idea to try to challenge me to a drinking contest, or eating contest for that matter. I'm a fucking vacuum, make no mistake about it."
For once she didn't go for the obvious sexual joke, but it didn't mean she wasn't thinking it. Every little show of decorum was for Abel's sake and his likely sky-high blood pressure. She may have to ask him to rub her feet with those fantastic large hands of his as a reward for even attempting to be good. He was oh so very good with those oh so fantastic hands of his after all.
She joined them a moment or two later, handing Abel his irrationally expensive neat whiskey in a lowball glass, before handing Erick one of the glasses of wine. It was only polite that she drink what Erick brought her while he was there, not something that she had learned from Abel even though he likely would have been shocked to know that she could be polite without his insistence. She fully intended to have a glass of the whiskey after she had finished her wine though. "So, babe, you'll have to tell me if that stuff tastes like money because it doesn't smell like it to me."