Cyrine opens her mouth to speak, as shes prone to tell the tall fellow off , she feels a distinct rumbling within her stomach.  Perhaps the best chaser for a half a bottle of Rhasvod is not an entire bottle of rotgut and an awkward handy from someone who is not ones preferred gender. Honestly, mere mortals would have succumbed long ago to the level of alcohol - However Cyrines dutiful  method of self destruction had pickled her liver some years ago.  While an adept drunk to be sure, even she had her limits.<br/><br/>She eyes Torin with a glare that could easily speak 100 words she at the moment simply could not. "Fuck..." is the only word she manages to get out before she makes a beeline for the door,<br/><br/>She fumbles with the lock, holding down the bubbling grossness deep within her stomach.  She tugs Torin by the hand towards the lock "C'mon c'mon.." she barks, pushing his hand against the number pad. Once he gets the hint, she bolts out the closet door and heads down the hallway.  A bouncing mess of pale flesh and crimson mop bounding around .  Half way down the hallway, she comes across a servitor carrying a picture of some liquid .  She promptly snags it, dumps it to the floor, and proceeds to propel the contents of her stomach into the container.<br/><br/>Once the nude heaving woman is done, she rights her self. Handing the container back to the servitor, before turning around to tip an imaginary hat at Torin, and strolls back down the hallway towards her room.  Totally shameless of being nude.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>