Gambit didn't sip. He drank. Not one gulp or two. But three. Four. And a fifth for luck. The bottle was handed back over and he let out a little 'Whoo!' to let out the little thrill from that rather strong moonshine.
Oh shit.
That was good.
"'De two us jus' too fuckin' cute for our own good." Plopping down in a singular, fluid movement, the graceful Cajun leaned back against that rock with Kylo and threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in close, until their sides met comfortably. Gambit was warm, fever-warm, but it was something easier excused in an inebriated state.
"Moi? Had t' get people t' tell me 'dere tasks." When they'd all been instructed not to, and warned not to. Gambit had gone up against a rather tall order. "Wha'cha hafta do? Get someone y' give you 'dere tight, sparkly pants?" Because don't think Gambit hadn't noticed that!
He'd had quite a fun time watching Kylo up there shouting to get people's attention in his sparkly number.