"Going once, goingtwicesold! To the high-roller with the smoldering gaze and the golden whis-[i]key[/i] to my heart." Zimmy glanced at Lee with an amused, admonishing look. "You didn't even try, hotshot! The great charmer Lee Datchery, brought low by magic fireflies. There's one for the books." 

She chuckled and glanced down, noticing a smooth rock that had somehow made it into the truck bed. She scooped it up and tossed it to Lori. "Don't lose that," she said. "That's your ticket to the one-night-only snoozefest of the year. After what you offered, it'd be a shame to make you sleep on the floor." She winked back at Kitty. "You'll get your chance: I'm sure at one point we're all going to end up crammed into a single room." That was the downside of being broke-ass WARDEN grads.

Then Zimmy took a swig from her flask, her face scrunching up as she did. That shit was strong as fuck. Had to be, for her: The Morander Magic Liver was strong in her, passed down by her father, from his father, all the way back until Lord Figorn Koski-Morander. Zimmy still had no idea who that was, except that he had, at one point, allegedly defeated a dragon in a game of dice, and asked for an immortal liver in return. This incredible gift had slowly been diluted as it was passed down the generations, and the end result was that Zimmy Morander often consumed enough alcohol to kill a raging bear. Metaphorically.

She exhaled sharply as she set the flask down. "You kids really want to have a drink-to-the-death contest? I think I'll have to excuse myself on that, on account of not wanting to be responsible for murder." She pulled out her cell-phone. "Though I would be more than happy to document this no doubt legendary display of fortitude."