It was easy for her to tell when somebody was starting to leave reality. Their eyes clouded over, they relaxed, nothing ever seemed to bother them. When it was a drink being involved, it was great. When it was something else affecting them…? Not so much, but she shoved that can of worms into the very back of her mind the second it seemed to creep into her mind.
Cam wasn’t fully gone yet, though, Rosalind noted. Just…in his eyes. Something was there. She’d seen it in married men before, and lonely men at bars. Every person had baggage, but for some it took more to forget and live in the moment.
She reached back to grab the bottle and refill the flute. She giggled softly, looking up at him. “Well, we’re just halfway through. Hopefully the rest of our ride,” she said softly in his ear. She hadn’t finished her first drink yet. She knew what alcohol did to her and it definitely wasn’t good.
His breath smelled like the sweet champagne, and despite how close they were, he still wasn’t going any further. Of course she would have to be the one to initiate anything. She gave him a small, sweet smile and leaned in so that their lips nearly touched. “To us, Love,” Rosalind murmured before she closed the minuscule gap and kissed him with soft, gentle lips.
Had the world exploded? No, he didn’t think so. It must have been this… headache. He assumed it was a headache, even though it felt more like a large weight had settled inside his skull, and any movement would disturb it. It’d be nice if he could stop being jostled around, though…
He blinked up at a blurred face, watching it swim back into view. What had happened? Was he still on the boat? Trying to move himself back into sitting position, the weight in his head slid from the back to the front, sending him reeling and groaning back down to the bench, where he promptly tried to curl up in a ball, only to be assaulted further into the ball.
Still curled up, he realized the situation. He must have fallen asleep. It had been at least four years, maybe five since he’d had any alcohol, and any of the tolerance he’d (probably not) developed was gone. The only thing he could really remember was a lot of champagne, Rosa, his wife-for-a-day being more in character than he was really comfortable with, and finally a kiss. Everything else was pretty much gone, but he highly doubted much had happened after that. It had been a warm, sunny day, after all, and he’d been fairly emotionally exhausted.
He tried opening his eyes again, only to be assaulted by the sun. But he had to sit up, at least… He dragged himself into a sitting position, but h e wasn’t happy with it. “Sorry…” he managed to whisper, not sure whether the look on Rosalind’s face was more amused or displeased. He really couldn’t see her that well at all.