Nysa did not often indulge in alcohol. Sure, she had a glass of wine at night with dinner, and sometimes she had a beer when she went out with friends. It was a rare occasion when she partook enough to get in the realm of “drunk”, but she had certainly crossed the boundary last night. Being in good company had certainly encouraged her to continue drinking throughout the night; the only thing that tempered her, and kept her from reaching embarrassing levels of inebriation, was Emilia and her inherent desire to make sure she had someone to care for her. Any one of her siblings, or her mother, or Gia, could have held back her hair if she got sick or made sure she drank plenty of water, but that had always been Nysa’s territory. At some point during the night, the pair had found their way upstairs to a guestroom and managed to get into the bed. Emilia had had the forethought to borrow a shirt of her sister’s, but Nysa had assumed that she would be more than fine remaining in the dress she had worn out to dinner earlier. The feeling of Emilia leaving the bed was enough to pull from her alcohol-induced sleep coma. By the time she finally opened her eyes, her sleeping companion had been gone for several minutes. Everything about her felt heavy and sluggish, which made getting up out of bed that much more difficult. She sat up and it was only then that she noticed the indecency of her dress. Her straps had completely fallen off and the side of the dress was now along her front, giving a surprising view of her chest. She muttered a soft “Dear Lord” under her breath as she worked to turn her dress to the proper place.
A few minutes later, enough time to gauge the stability of her stomach, Nysa decided to rise and join the others downstairs. “Is it just me, or am I always the last one up,” she asked to the group at large as she rubbed the caked sleep from her eyes. Her next action was to pull her disheveled hair from her face. She knew she looked frightful, but the Kavanaghs were practically family, and if there was anyone who thought she looked beautiful no matter what, it was Emilia. “If we’re deciding on food, I’ll gladly contribute to the cause.” She wasn’t sure who had nominated themselves as cook, but she was all too happy to offer her help. Nysa was nothing if not the gracious guest. She stopped once she was at Emilia’s side. Though she didn’t sit down, she nudged the other woman slightly with her knee -- enough to grab her attention so that she could offer her a bright, good morning smile.