"Enough to think... drunk... drink, that's for sure." Ptricia stood, swaying slightly, and dropped a £10 note on the bar for their last round. "Keep the... you know, left over money."<br/><br/>She brushed a hand through her mop of hair. "Man, I'm lightweight. I can't have had more than a galleon... gallon, two on the inside... at the outside. C'mon, let's go."