[The liquor from the flask goes down with all the ease of chewing gravel. Fitcher sucks in air to follow after it. She takes a second, smaller swig before returning the flask.]
I didn't, did I.
[As if somehow this is a thing one might forget as easily as leaving a shirt with a laundress. With a rustle of papers, Fitcher idly shifts the spoils from raiding the mantle compartment aside. There is a jaunty good humor to the angle of her chin as its propped on her knuckles. In the meager candle light, her eyes are very dark.]
no subject
I didn't, did I.
[As if somehow this is a thing one might forget as easily as leaving a shirt with a laundress. With a rustle of papers, Fitcher idly shifts the spoils from raiding the mantle compartment aside. There is a jaunty good humor to the angle of her chin as its propped on her knuckles. In the meager candle light, her eyes are very dark.]
Care to hazard a guess?