A slow burn smile spread across Freya's face at the mention of a bottle. "Yeah... If you can spare it, oh, M, nose too." she indicated where the smudge would be if it were on her own nose, which wasn't likely to help as it would need washing off.<br/>"I mean, I have a couple of bottles of Macallan ten I grabbed out of my dads business entertaining cupboard in his study before I left, but that's the really good stuff strictly for emergencies." She sighed heavily, "Alight, I'll go buy something cheap and sparkling. Risk getting felt up by the old guy that is always sitting outside the market again begging for change and smelling of fish. The things I do to try to ensure we have a good evening." She was smiling despite the tirade. She grabbed her shoulder bag which was a reproduction leather script bag she had picked up at some event she had gone to with her family a few years back with jousting and combat displays. She tended to take it everywhere with her. Digging around in it she checked her purse and made sure she had enough money.<br/>"Anyone coming with to cut down the chances of me being wino'd on the way in and out?" There wasn't much hope, a walk down to the market and back wasn't that appealing, throw in a change of being felt up by an arthritic old beggar and you had a recipe for 'oh bloody hell no!'.<br/><br/>Freya glanced at the other two girls with a hopeful expression nonetheless, "Think of it as providing a target rich environment for a poor destitute perverse old man on his last elbows. The cheap thrill provided by a grab of one of our asses could be the last he ever experiences, shoving him boldly over the edge into a final shuddering coronary." Humour, that would work for sure!