Ana muttered something uncharitable about herself in Spanish, along the lines of 'but why though', as she raised her hand for yet another drink. She was probably downing them faster than was advisable, but she couldn't make herself care. Her tolerance was pretty high, she knew when to cut herself off. And she was nowhere near that point yet.
"I need to go to the beach again soon," apropos of nothing. "Less chance of my head starting to spin like a top while I'm there."