"Somethin' I feel cheated out of," she agreed and examined the bottom of her glass before turning a look toward him but wasn't really looking at him. "I am a liedy, I shouldna be here." She numbly put the glass on the sill behind her where the decanter sat mostly empty. She shifted to and fro, unable to keep still. "I want a husband and a bairn, and here I am in a foocking brothel." She palmed her forehead. "Givin' my last bit o' dignity to ye upon a bottle of disgoostin brandy, wantin' things I canna have. What a waste." She scoffed at herself. "All because I wouldna marry a man I despised." She giggled, and then it turned into something else, a sob, perhaps. But she didn't break down, surprisingly enough.

Her hand dropped from her face and she blinked a few times. God, she was feeling giddy and stupid and... not with it. Of course, who would be after three glasses of generously poured alcohol?