That earns a sincere, surprised smile on her lips, one she ducks her head to try and cover up, but there's no denying her amusement or her appreciation for the distraction. She lifts her gaze to him, then twists her glass between her fingers, watching the lamp light refract against the surface and the liquid swaying back and forth inside.

"God, I don't even - when I was sixteen, I think? It was such a predictable thing: kid's parents were out of town and left their house wide open for the partying. Someone didn't waste any time before spiking the punch. All I remember is throwing up all over their trimmed hedges outside, but the next day, all anyone could talk about was the drunken tabletop rendition of En Vogue I'd offered up to anyone within earshot."

She shakes her head at the memory, a combination of nostalgia and embarrassment.

"My mom grounded me for a month when she caught me stumbling in at three in the morning. I wasn't too stealthy back then."