Ford already had a glass of champagne in hand, but he had absolutely nothing better to do than to walk her to the refreshments table. He could finish this glass on the walk over and get another drink, he decided; he'd pace himself later in the evening after he had just the beginnings of a buzz. Ford had no intention of getting drunk tonight, of course. He rarely drank much at any sort of event, and he hadn't been drunk in public since the Rainbow Ball where Cash had to help him escape the ballroom. That had been before he'd had so many secrets, though, and when the ones he did have hadn't felt so close to the surface, ready to be uncovered at the slightest misstep. He would never have dreamed of having that much to drink at a party now... but he could have a bit to drink tonight, enough to take the edge off the tedium of getting through parties that none of his friends were attending.

"Sure," he agreed with a nod. "I'll defend you against any gingerbread ghouls that pop up along the way. I think they're serving cocktails," Ford continued. The way he said cocktails made it clear that this he considered this both novel and perhaps excessively fancy; the look he added might as well have said the things rich people do with their money, am I right? He'd opted for a simple glass of champagne to begin the evening — classic, expected, especially for New Year's — but had seen a whole array of colorful drinks on display to choose from. He was interested to try one, probably, but he hadn't wanted to start with that. Sweet, colorful drinks were what had gotten him into trouble at the Rainbow Ball; it was easy to drink too much too quickly.

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