Felicity takes a drink of her Polish vodka.

"Hey, this stuff is forty years old -  it would be [u]a crime[/u] not to drink this!"

She takes another swig, the stench of almost pure alcohol profound in the air.

"I've had a long day, you can't complain."

 Her face looked long and withdrawn, as if she deeply wished to forget the events of the day: bagged eyes black with fatigue, makeup partially smeared without care for its re-appliance, clothes creased from several days continuous wear.