Ginny was kind of... well... tipsy could be a word. It was a pretty good word. So was pissed, for that matter, or she could just outright call herself drunk, but that sounded kind of sloppy. And who wanted to be sloppy when out and about? She wasn't the sloppy type. Never had been a sloppy drunk, thank Merlin. A happy one. Possibly an argumentative one, but sloppy?
Nope.
She had lost her drinking buddies somewhere on the way back from the loo, which could have been a problem had the prospect of another pint of something or other not called even more strongly to her. So she ambled up the bar, caught the barmaid's attention and ordered, in her words, "a pint of something or other, so long as it's strong."
Strong it was. Tasted good going down. And she'd fine her mates eventually, after all, it was still early yet.