[Gintoki's correct in one thing - she doesn't usually drink. Too many of her daily motions hinge on being alert at all times, a state of being usually made impossible by alcohol, and besides, she'd earned something of a name for herself as one of the more rigid members of the shinsengumi. ("Stick up her ass" might be a more accurate phrase, if a bit too blunt.) But for all her stiff-lipped demeanor, she's still fully human underneath. Prone to affection, fear, grief.
Her jacket's slung over the back of her chair, one black sleeve threatening to fall too far to the left and drag the entire thing down with it. But even with her hair tied up and the sparse population of the bar that evening, her skin burns hot to the touch, a rosy tint spreading up her neck and dissipating through her cheeks. She's had one cup too many, to be sure, but somehow Riza suspects it has less to do with the empty cups before her than the man staring straight at her.
It takes a second to for his words to register. Then:]
I can walk myself.
[Her sharp tone's undercut by a faint slur, and her words disproved by the forward pitch of her body as she stumbles out of her chair.]
groans, when will i not be late to everything ever
Her jacket's slung over the back of her chair, one black sleeve threatening to fall too far to the left and drag the entire thing down with it. But even with her hair tied up and the sparse population of the bar that evening, her skin burns hot to the touch, a rosy tint spreading up her neck and dissipating through her cheeks. She's had one cup too many, to be sure, but somehow Riza suspects it has less to do with the empty cups before her than the man staring straight at her.
It takes a second to for his words to register. Then:]
I can walk myself.
[Her sharp tone's undercut by a faint slur, and her words disproved by the forward pitch of her body as she stumbles out of her chair.]