'Shit!' Katie watched in slow motion as foam and Irish tradition trickled across the coffee table, spilt over the edge like a winter waterfall and dribbled onto the sheep skin rug. Angelina's knocking had startled her; she'd been expecting Angelina just to floo in. No matter; spilt beer was the least of her worries.
Popping up from the sofa, Katie dashed over to the latch and opened the door, taking the bottle of wine from where it was trying to escape Angelina's grasp. 'Careful of the coffee table, yeah? Just spilt a pint. Make yourself at home while I mop it up.'