Alice followed Victor along and outside, wondering where he was taking her. She didn't balk at the ladder; she was calm and obliging from the wine. She got to the top and was admittedly a little nervous to sit on the edge; but he was there. So it was fine. She plopped down beside him quite closely, the urge to touch him terribly strong. She took his rum when he offered, taking a long sip. He was speaking about her father again, and the port, and everything else. She just wanted to forget about it. That was what the alcohol was meant for, after all. 

"You've been perfectly gentlemanly," she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder. "A gentleman... Pleases a lady. He is chivalrous." Her lips curled slightly, some sly amusement. Victor had certainly corrupted her thoughts a bit, if anything. She handed the bottle back to him, knowing she was tipsy. It was comfortable staying like this. "I know he'll want me back. Although perhaps I won't tell him the extent of your... chivalry." Alice let the words hang in the air for a moment, before turning her head on his shoulder. Her breath ghosted across the skin of his neck, before she planted a soft kiss on his cheek. She suddenly felt incredibly sad, and a hand came up to the other side of his face to turn his head toward her.

It was dark and mysterious and magical, the fires of many households looming out from the small town. Somewhere in the distance, drunken singing from a tavern could be heard. How many times in a lifetime did one experience this? A soft laugh escaped her as she looked up at him - moreso at herself than him, because why did she feel like she was going to cry? Leaning forward, she kissed him under the light of the rising moon, her hand drifting down until it rested at the neckline of his shirt. His chest was hot under her palm. She wanted to see more of him.