Lartia's dark eyes track over him, seeing more than her tipsy demeanor might give away. She's not from Bruma, not subtle by nature, but she's learned to read a lot of smiles over a life of ordinary skulduggery, war and tragedy and rebuilding.

"Bad, huh?" More than Felix's usual fun and games. Worry stabs at her that something's happened, something real- but they're all fine, they wouldn't be holding a wedding otherwise. She raps her fingers idly on the table, focusing through the drink haze. They're fine. And they're here. That's what's important now.

"And you're still here. Stayed by him. Why? Sure that's a good idea?"