Riz rose an eyebrow, and she led Jaime by the hand out of the living room while she spoke.  "We'll make up for the steak," Riz promised.  "But what's this about 'under age'?  I've known some humans to be ... stingy about allowing their young alcohol, I suppose, but to have<em>never</em>partaken?  I assumed drunkenness to be an inseparable part of your culture."  Her surprise was honest; it was clear in her voice.<br/><br/>"Well, you're not under age in my house," she said, and as they slipped out of the light cast by the fire in the living room, she waved a hand forward and ignited a glow on the far end of the room that cast a bright light outward -- keeping Jaime out of the dark, so to speak.  This looked like a kitchen -- a kitchen/dining room, maybe, we a small table set aside with four chairs around it, and a small area set out for prep.  At the far end of a room was a rack of bottles, and Riz approached those.  She let Jaime's hand go, though -- Jaime could let herself at home now.<br/><br/>She pondered over the array of bottles and thought out loud.  "How, how, how do we celebrate this joyous occasion?  Wine, for our romantic evening?  Rum, for a boisterous night?  Hm, hm..."