"You know what the nice thing about wine is?" He asked, continuing before she could answer, his glass wavering just as unsteadily as his voice. "The nice thing--the nicest thing--is that you can drink something that's 30 proof any old time and you'll look sophisticated." He waved it gaily, and Mel watched the red wine slosh over the side, drops falling interminably towards the carpet.

Dutifully and with the swiftness of The Flash Jen appeared, blocked it with a foot. Mel winced at the splash of tannin and grape--those shoes had been expensive--but silently thanked her and reached with one hand to stop the waving glass. Its holder stared at her, betrayed, for a moment or two; then he laughed and made an exagerrated bow.

She hated him.

"I know I'm a drunk," he said happily, "but I'm a charming one, no?"

Well, she had to give him that.