"Huh-uh, darlin', I let myself in." She figured that in his current state, Blues wouldn't remember that Jazz didn't have a key to Grunge's home. Really, what was a bit of breaking and entering? Her family needed her, and for them Jazz would break any number of laws. She tucked her feet beneath her, getting good and comfortable on the floor next to her brother.
Eventually, Jazz planned to get Blues to stop drinking to Les's memory. But he was as attached to his drink as she was to her sax, and there was no way she'd attack without having a drink or two for herself first. Fortification, of course. That was the only reason she took the offered drink -- or so she told herself as she raised the glass in a silent toast to the guitar and its creator.
"I don't think his idea of a good drink was an entire bottle of bourbon per person," she said lightheartedly, taking a healthy swallow of her drink. "You gonna share?"