"Que ce soit dimanche ou lundi Soir ou matin minuit midi Dans l’enfer ou le paradis Les amours aux amours ressemblent C’était hier que je t’ai dit Nous dormirons ensemble,"

she drawled making you flushed in the face, she despised subtle, lazily draped over you as you attempted to carry her back to the cart her brother nearly begged you to take to see her. God, Marie had always been a weird drunk, from reciting classics to being…touchy, to say the least. She called it clingy

Having to wrestle her into the cart was another battle within itself; bringing on its own array of quotes and whines, though they eventually calmed her Mainly because she could still lean on your shoulder, still wrap her arms around your neck, still pull herself in so that her wine-ridden breath came out in pants against your cheek with a sweet sticky note, She almost chuckled.

“your…exquis, ma chérie”

God, tonight was going to be a long one.