"Don't be sorry," Much murmured, wrapping both arms snugly around her waist and pulling her against him, his forehead touching hers. "Like I said before, I gotcha. You okay?"
He realised - maybe a smidge late - that just because she'd only had two drinks in his bar, didn't meant she hadn't had some before she arrived there, and as much as he wanted to slide his hands up under her bright dress, and see what other soft noises she might make... not if she wasn't right there too. And... this was the second time she'd stumbled and apologised - or, no hang on, had she been apologising all night? No, he didn't think so, but there was something tentative about her, something a little uncertain, something almost on the brink of a constant apology. That didn't speak to being drunk but it did speak to something. His forehead took on a concerned frown as he pulled back a little. "No really, are you okay?"