Taking a sip, Gretchen smiled, pressing her knee towards Nat's hand. "Morat's Golden," she answered, setting her glass down and leaning back, draping her arm over the back of the booth and Natalie's shoulders. "It's a mead." She nudged Nat in the side, tickling her fingers along the girls stomach. "Drink up, it's really good." She took another sip and studied the curve of Nat's neck, debating whether or not to drop her head and press her lips along it.