It stops them tasting of apricots and makes them taste like honey but if you wanted honey then you should just buy honey instead of apricots

Anything, even and especially money, would have been preferred to what Jemma insisted in putting them through. However, deposited in her husband’s lap, she was somewhat safe from Alice’s steadily rising wrath. She already felt as though she wasn’t quite up for Apparation but the addition of the whisky that was going to come, regardless of what she wanted because Jemma would find a way, would ultimately mean that Alice would have to find a blanket, a pillow and a soft piece of floor to curl up on. Nevertheless, the alcohol was the stake, a high enough one to make Alice feel a little bit nervous. What unsettled her even more was the fact that she could feel David’s eyes lingering on her and while half of her want to strike out and slap him silly, she would have much preferred to disappear and hide behind the chair. She doubted she’d get away with that, though, she continued to sit, trying to distract herself with the cards, her mind absently noting the way Ollie had reached towards her.

Alice picked up her glass of wine again, just to give her hands something to hold. She drummed her nails gently on the side of the glass and continued to look over the cards that Oliver held. She nibbled on her lip thoughtfully, her eyes darting to his when he leaned over to speak to her. Alice released her lip as her mouth took on a wry smile and she poked him playfully. She laughed a little, shaking her head, and set her glass down again before shuffling to sit a little further up on the arm. Her feet still dangled over the edge, however, and she wriggled them absentmindedly as Jemma and Dan tossed their gazes around. She found, also, that Ollie was doing the same and Alice looked up, a rather blank expression on her face – not unlike the one she had a habit of wearing when she knew that a bad idea had been acted upon in the cabinet but no one had the balls to challenge it.

“What’re our chances of avoiding having to have another shot?” She queried quietly, lifting her eyes around the room, watching as everyone fought to try and maintain a neutral expression.

“No chance at all!” Henriette exclaimed with a loud giggle.

Alice’s eyebrows rose at the sight of her friend and smirked a little bit. Henriette demanded another slosh of wine from her husband and Jacques eagerly indulged her, his arm around her tugging a bit tighter. She drank eagerly and Jacques had to steal the glass back from her before any cards could be turned over and placed out. Alice shook her head and sat up a little to curl one leg beneath herself and she draped her arm over the back of the chair to steady herself.

Then, the first cards were turned over.

Feigning a disappointed expression when Alice asked after their chances, Oliver let his fingers dance over the tops of two cards in his hands. “Don’t look so down, Ollie,” Jemma giggled, “You’ll get your shot at a win. Dan can’t beat you every time, can he?”

Oliver rolled his eyes but said nothing, taking her amusement for a sign that she thought herself and her husband prepared to win. The first three cards were flipped, laying out one heart and two spades – high ones – leaving Oliver and Alice only wanting for a ten of spades with the last card. He found himself dearly wishing he were betting, for he could raise incrementally and beat Dan out easily. It would be a stretch to call Ollie a gambler, but he certainly knew when he would get a high return on his investments.

Learning about the people around him and observing all he could about them was a pastime that Oliver found himself doing without intending to. For example, as Alice shifted and her arm fell over the back of his chair, Oliver had to wonder if it were out of growing comfort around him or if it had something to do with David and her reaction earlier. The latter likely made more sense, he mused as Jacques reached for the next card on the stack, moving to flip it.

“Alright, last one. All couples – rather, all teams,” Dan smiled in Ollie and Alice’s direction, “who are not the holders of the best hand must drink.” A few laughs and a couple quiet grumbles rose in reply as Oliver shot a confused look Dan’s way.

“Wait, so we’re all hiding our hands why, exactly? What is there to gain from that secrecy?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

“What do you want, Oliver? The best hand to have to drink?” Henriette suggested, smirking lightly. “Hardly how poker works, and I daresay you would know as much.”

“Well, of course I do, but that doesn't change my not understanding the choice to act like we're making bets and hiding our cards, so-“

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” David cut in, surprising Oliver to the point where he wanted to just stare at the bloke in disapproval. But that would just give away the fact that he and Alice were due to win the first hand.

“Sounds perfect, my dear.” Jacques said, leaning into his wife with an approving smile.

“Turn ‘em over, then,” Jemma said impatiently, bouncing a little. Oliver was the last to turn his, painfully reluctant to do so. In the end, they had to be shown, and everyone was laughing loudly in their tipsy states, pouring up shots for Ollie and his partner. Handing one to Alice, he passed her an apologetic look, aware that the change had been his fault essentially, and waited until she lifted the glass to her lips before knocking his back as well.

A shake of his head later, Oliver knew that it would be a short-lived adventure, this game. Not long from now, they would end up with another flush, or ace pairs, or some other complicated mess, and be halfway past drunk instead of halfway to. Setting down the shot glasses, he groaned and took up the cards, determined to shuffle them more properly – that last hand shouldn’t have been possible, and he couldn’t help but hope it didn’t happen again. Even still, he could feel his actions slowing and his vision blurring around the edges. Although it was his own fault that he rarely drank, and thus had not built up the tolerance his friends or roommate had, Oliver would not feel bad about blaming those around him for his future actions.

At Dan’s words, it was impossible for Alice not to bristle and cast a look in David’s direction. His glance was effortlessly averted, his choice to studiously avoid her searching expression just about finishing off Alice’s appetite for the evening’s activity. She had always held out a little bit of hope, just in case there might come a time where David would want her again. She knew it was stupid. She knew it was pitiful. She knew it was never, ever going to happen, too. Part of her just wanted some acknowledgement, though. Something, if it was only just a glance at least, something which actually made her remember why she’d loved David in the first place. But it just wasn’t there.

Accepting the shot was an easy thing to do because with that one and every one that followed, Alice found she cared less and less about the man sat across the room from her, oddly quiet despite his clinging fiancée’s bellowing laughter. As the shots rolled in, Dan somehow managing to take the first few hands, Jacques then winning a few before Dan regained ground, the world seemed to narrow and Alice’s head began to ache. She felt herself lean further and further into the back of the chair, her arm now slung uselessly, as though it wasn’t even attached to her body, instead of purposefully resting over top. Her curls was beginning to lose its bounciness and her eyes were beginning to grow heavy as she watched the game unfold and for the first time in what must have been half an hour coming onto forty five minutes, they finally won a hand.

Alice shot her fist into the air in triumph and as she did so she felt the soft material of the arm of the chair slip out from underneath her. She gasped a little and reached out, her arms involuntarily curling around the neck of the man who, despite being her poker partner, was still a stranger. Then, as she half-caught herself she fell ungracefully into Ollie’s lap, her back hitting the other side of the chair. She opened her eyes, not realising she had closed them, and looked up regretfully at Ollie. Alice hesitantly unfurled her arms and reached to smooth out the material of his shirt before pushing herself up a little, one of her feet reaching for the floor as she attempted to move off of his lap.

“Sorry,” she muttered, turning away to get up, only to find two cards being thrown in their direction. “Um, right, uh.”

With enough sense to be embarrassed, Alice got up and fetched the cards, scuttling back. However, she didn’t have enough sense to think twice and take up residence on the floor or back on the arm. No, instead, she was going to blame it on inebriation later and instead sat back in Ollie’s lap, handing the cards to him. She looked at the cards. Then at Ollie. Cards again. Ollie.

“Can we win?” She asked, chewing her lip. “I really, really, really don’t want any more to drink. I mean I could but... je ne veux pas,” she shook her head.

The adage of: you never really know how drunk you are until you get up … well, it was applicable here. All the alcohol seemed to have taken to her head and once back down she felt all of those drunken feelings she’d long abolished, including the fatigue that whipped her up all of a sudden. Alice let her head fall onto Ollie’s shoulder and she focused her eyes on the cards. It didn’t really compute very well, though. In fact, none of it did. She was really about ready to curl up somewhere under a blanket and sleep off the oncoming hangover. She knew she’d spend the following day drowning herself in a bucket of coffee somewhere but she wanted to mitigate it as much as possible. The other idiots could continue to drink until they were sick for all she cared. She didn’t want it.

“How long does it take to reattached splinched limbs?” She asked with a yawn.

Getting home was going to be a nightmare. Jemma and Dan’s house had yet to properly be hooked up to the Floo Network – it was all down to Apparation and Alice truly doubted she’d get far. They wouldn’t want her sleeping in the spare room just yet though, either. She would just have to walk or get a taxi or something. Or maybe she could sleep on Ollie and maybe wake up sober enough – or hung over enough – to apparate home. Unlikely. She closed her eyes anyway, though and while she did not sleep, she seemed to rest for a bit – at least as much as you could in a group of loud, giggling people pretending to be adults.

What Oliver hated the most about drinking was losing his wits. For example, the Oliver he would have been when he was not drunk was one who would not have let Alice fall. Better yet, he wouldn’t have immediately wrapped an arm around her middle and just stared at her. That was not sensible, nor was it polite, he noted. Except that is exactly what he did, only thinking to let go when she moved away, herself.

Any attempt to reply to her apology was essentially a failure as she returned, surprising him once more. She kept glancing at him, far too close for Oliver’s good. He nearly corrected her French, but decided that she was likely to drunk to register the fact that it wasn’t correct. He extended a hand to take the cards as Alice’s head came to rest against his shoulder. Without really thinking, his arm wrapped around her back, taking up the cards in that hand instead as his free hand brushed her hair out of her face. He felt more comfortable than he should have in that moment, aside from the general feeling of disease he got from drinking, and had to keep himself from resting his cheek atop her head.

“I think-“ he started, cut off by her question. Once he found that she had finished, he tried again. “I think we shou-should call it quits, eh?” He asked, directing the question at those around them. Many of them looked about as poor as he and Alice did. A few very difficult blinks later, he found that several were agreeing. Eventually the cards were gathered and returned to a deck, but Oliver found that while the others had begun milling about he had a very tired if not sleeping blonde in his lap.

Dan – who was far less along on the road to being drunk – turned to look at them with a slight frown. “We can’t let her go to hers alone. Jemma would take her, but…” He gestured to his wife, who had curled around a pillow on the couch and appeared about as tired as Alice did.

“Right.” Oliver returned after a moment, shifting as best as he could to reach into his pocket and tugged his cell out. He would owe his roommate the next morning, but a phone call later he had arranged for Ariel to pop over and get them. As expected, a grumpy version of his roommate appeared soon after, far too amused with Oliver’s predicament. If Ariel complained about leaving Eric home alone, Ollie didn’t quite catch it. He was too focused on keeping upright and avoiding dropping Alice as he made to stand up. It certainly wouldn’t do to hurt her when he was only trying to help.