"Yeah, so it was some fancy shit. Right? Like I said, grape juice. Ya fancy folk, they don't wantcha gettin' all drunk and messin' yourselves, 'ppearances and all, so it's grape juice with just a li'l alcohol. Girlie fop stuff." Beatrid was just talking out of her ass, but at the moment it made perfect logical sense. "'Sides, since I drink the bad shit more, I got a tolerance, see. You don't got it."
Whoo, okay, so maybe she was further along than she'd thought she was. Laughing, she swatted Adelaide's hand away and grabbed her latest mug of ale, taking a large gulp--but not chugging it with nearly as much gusto as the previous servings.