The dim glow of the lamplight flickered in the room, casting long shadows over the scattered maps and empty glassware on the table. Starry Night sat slouched on her chair, her uniform jacket undone, a half-empty bottle of Aquileian wine resting beside her. Her eyepatch glinted faintly as she leaned forward, a cigarette balanced precariously between her lips, its smoke curling lazily into the air.

—"Ah, comrade," she began, her voice warm and tinged with the unmistakable slur of intoxication, "tell me, have you ever tasted wine as fine as this?" She gestured vaguely to the bottle with a chuckle, her telekinesis steady despite her drunken state. "Aquileian wine... Did you know this stuff used to cost more than an entire weapons cache back when we were fighting Wingfried?"

Her free hoof tapped the table, tracing invisible patterns on its worn surface.

—"You know," she continued, her tone shifting to something softer, almost wistful, "sometimes I wonder… if it was all worth it. The scars, the funerals, the sleepless nights staring at the ceiling. But then I see you. I see the others. I see a future where ponies and griffons share a meal without a rifle between them. And I think, maybe… just maybe…"

Her voice trailed off, her expression briefly turning somber before a sly grin crept across her face. She took a long drag from her cigarette, its embers glowing brightly. Then she leaned in closer over the table, her good eye locking onto yours, glinting with a teasing spark.

—"I’ll give you a French kiss," she drawled, smoke curling from her lips, "but only if you finish the rest of this wine with me. What do you say, comrade?”