"Dooooooooooooo you?" she asked. To both, kind of, if she remembered both.

She had had a lot of daiquiris, and she was tiny.

She sprawled onto his bed. BED! She liked his bed. It was comfy.

"I wrote letters," she announced. "Today. To people. For stuff. Bleh. Then I went to Bally-haiiiiiiii an' got drunk. An' you had paperwork. Your bed is comfy."