It worked, there was an ease then, that the alcohol didn't provide for all it's ability to mute, but she just put it down to the prospect of bed, and getting out of her corset.

"Oh I doubt that very much. I know exactly what's waiting for me in a few hours, and it's as pleasant as a kick to the head." She laughed, though not much because she was concentrating on walking step by step out of the room, trying to think where her room was again...

"... Pox ridden, wine sodden, son of a whore, there's stairs to my room. Why stairs? I hate stairs. I am four hundred years into the future and people still have stairs." It's a muttered little outburst that gets louder in her frustration.