Perhaps she did, though she did not often drink, and when she did it was light and socially. Overindulgence was rare, but it had been known to happen.
It's subtle, what happened while he was in the kitchen. She didn't really appear to move from her spot, but the items on his coffee table were now straightened and neat. A water-ring had been wiped away. The shoes had been tucked just beneath the table against one of the legs, and the couch cushions had all been neatly straightened. She isn't a neat freak, that's not what it was that made her do those things.
The wine-glass is taken with a small, uncertain smile and then she chuckles, surprised into laughter by the gentle honesty, the earnestness with which he speaks about his religion, his pantheon. Her fingers lift, cover her mouth so that she might listen to the rest of it. Her laughter had not been cold or cruel. He was just right.
..and then.. it happens. What she is, who she is, without the influence of the darkness comes to the fore. She reaches and touches his wrist ever so softly, her fingers curved to rest soothingly upon his pulse. "It's not a bad thing, even for you. What I am, what we do, what we feel. So many misunderstand. Most of mine are happily married couples, many more devoted to one another than a large percentage of the population here. What they do, they do for the pleasure of their partner as much as for themselves. It is.. loving, it is tender even when it is painful. It is right, for them, for their marriages or relationships. It is not bad, you should not be ashamed."