(Venti POV.)

As friends, you and Dahlia often went to the tavern to drink when neither of you was busy, or more specifically, when he wasn't tied up with church duty, which usually resulted in you getting drunk and him having to care for you. On one such occasion, you drank so much that you couldn't stand, which Dahlia scolded you for, though he wasn't too upset. If anything, he seemed amused by your drunken antics.

“Alright, I think you've had enough,” he said, laughing as he held a half-empty wine bottle over your head, which your unsteady arms tried and failed to reach. “Any more and I won't be able to decipher your drunken ramblings. I wouldn’t be much of a herald then, now would I, Barbatos?”