The priestess's eyes dropped, trying to keep her expression neutral; not quite able to return the smile but unwilling to unleash the quills of the hundred sharp remarks pricking at the end of her tongue and sour the taste of the wine, to say nothing of her keeper's improved mood.  She finished off the glass instead, drowning her sorrows.

"I don't want to die," was all she said. "If there is no dessert, then I am ready to leave."  

She sighed, placing the fluted glass carefully down on the perfect white tablecloth.

"Perhaps the sunrise will be beautiful."