To Angel (Long after she has been talking with Lazarus)
Darla walked away slowly, while running a hand rapidly through her hair not caring for the chances that it would make her hair very greasy very quickly. She trudged as best she could in heels across the ground and made a b-line for the moonshine stand admiring the way it was being poured plentifully into the cups without hesitation, she also realised very quickly that there were some already very drunk people loitering the surrounding area trying to make it back to fill up without falling over.
She didn't shake her head, for it would have been her a few years ago, by this time however she would have been passed out on a bed next to some random whose name she would have long forgotten by the time she regained consciousness.
Fortunately those days were no more.
She accepted her cup eventually, thanking the person behind the face paint and she turned in time to see a very unsteady feather masked girl, if the pigtails were anything to go by, hiccupping and claiming to the air that that drink would be the last.
Tired of being a depressive Darla tried her luck at a smile and walked steadily towards the figure, it was always fun talking to a drunk person. "Your last drink?" she asked sceptically, "Whom are you trying to convince?"