{Chapter: 363 Getting Drunk}
Jane watched William gulp down a full glass of red wine like water, her brows rising in disbelief. She leaned in, smiling with affectionate reproach. "It seems you've never been to a proper banquet before, have you? Red wine isn't supposed to be... chugged like that," she said, her tone playful but tinged with genuine concern.
William gave a casual shrug, unfazed. "I know, I know... I'm breaking all the rules. At banquets, I'd probably be booed off the floor by old noblewomen and wine snobs alike. Forgive me, darling—I'm just that kind of guy. Honest. Unpolished. Zero finesse."
Jane chuckled softly, shaking her head. Her eyes lingered on him with obvious warmth. "You always have a reason for everything. Can't pretend? Please. You're the best liar I've ever met."
William gave her a wink, smirking devilishly. "Fine, then I'm a straightforward liar. A contradiction in motion. Can we stop talking about banquets and lies? This wine's too good to waste on overthinking." There was a glint in his eye—subtle but unmistakably wicked.
Jane and Sif both took small, refined sips of their wine, far more graceful in their manner than William's brutish approach. Jane's cheeks flushed a rosy hue from the alcohol, her eyes starting to sparkle with warmth. She shifted closer to William almost instinctively, the closeness comforting.
Sif, on the other hand, remained collected. Her posture was upright, shoulders squared, her every motion precise and controlled—like the warrior she was. The wine barely touched her, and her gaze kept flickering to Jane and William with an expression she tried to mask. But resentment simmered beneath the surface, mixing with something darker... and unspoken.
"Look at the two of you," William said, stretching his legs lazily. "You drink like queens at court. Come on. This isn't a royal affair. There's no audience. Let loose a little. Stop pretending to be elegant. No one's judging you."
"We're not all animals like you," Jane said with a teasing smirk, her words slurring just slightly. She leaned her head briefly on William's shoulder. "You're just pretending to be uncivilized. Everyone knows it."
William feigned hurt, then poured himself another glass with gusto. "If I'm so uncivilized, then let's do this the uncivilized way. One gulp. No shame. Anyone who can't finish their drink in one go is officially a puppy."
Sif scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Ridiculous." But then, with a sudden flash of competitive fire, she raised her glass. "Fine. I'll be the last person you ever call a puppy." And she drank the wine in one powerful motion, her gaze daring him to comment.
William raised his brows, clearly impressed. "Now that's the Sif I remember—brave, bold, impossible to tame." He lifted his own glass. "Can't let you outshine me, can I?" And down the wine went.
"Refill," he said, not missing a beat, pouring into her glass again. "Come on, Sif. Show me that Asgardian tolerance everyone keeps bragging about."
Sif's jaw clenched. "Still bragging, still infuriating." She drank it again anyway, faster this time, her eyes locked on William's.
Jane pouted dramatically. "You two are ganging up on me. I'm not going to be the only one left behind." She downed her wine too, then blinked, wobbling slightly. "Whoa... that might have been too much."
William reached out quickly to steady her, the mischief softening in his face. "Jane... hey, easy. No need to prove anything. You're already amazing."
Jane clung to his arm like a lifeline, her voice a dreamy whisper. "You're so warm... and kind. And... and I love you so much, William. No matter what happens. No matter where we end up." Her words slurred, but her sincerity cut through like a blade of truth.
His smile softened, the devilish gleam in his eyes dimming just for a moment. "I know, Jane. I know."
Sif turned her face away, expression unreadable. Her fingers clenched around her glass so hard it nearly cracked. Her thoughts were a whirlwind: Why does it hurt to watch this? Why does he make her smile like that? Her heart pounded, filled with something bitter—anger? Resentment? Or something far worse—longing.
William, still holding Jane, waved a roasted pheasant under their noses. "Come on, drink like warriors, eat like kings. Nothing goes better with red wine than meat roasted over open flame."
Jane tried to reach for the pheasant but gagged, holding her mouth. "Ugh—I can't. I'm going to be sick." She stumbled away toward the shore and vomited violently into the waves.
William immediately followed her, concern laced through his voice. "Jane? Jane, are you alright?" He supported her gently, his hand rubbing her back, his voice low and soothing.
"I'm fine..." she mumbled, eyes fluttering. "Just... why do you have two heads all of a sudden?"
William chuckled. "You're drunk."
"I'm not!" Jane insisted, poking one of his faces with her finger. "You're just blurry! Now give me more wine. No one escapes the puppy rule!"
As Jane swayed in his arms, Sif stood off to the side, watching silently. There was a frown on her lips, but her eyes betrayed the conflict within. Her pride screamed at her to walk away, to scoff at the whole ridiculous scene. But something deeper held her in place—something painful and real.
Why do I care? Why does he make me feel like this? Her heart wrestled with feelings she'd spent so long burying under layers of armor and cold words. I hate him... I should hate him... so why can't I look away?
Back near the campfire, William guided Jane back to a sitting position and offered her a chunk of roasted fish.
"Eat a little, Jane. You'll feel better. Drinking on an empty stomach is just asking for chaos."
She smiled at him through half-lidded eyes. "You're always looking out for me…"
Sif turned away and grabbed her glass again. She drank it down with unnecessary force, as if trying to drown the storm rising within her.
William raised a glass once more. "To chaos, to love, and to whatever comes next." He smiled. "We're on an island, the stars above, good food, good wine, and the company of two amazing women. What more could a man ask for?"
Jane gave him a sleepy, love-drunk smile, her head nuzzling into the curve of his neck. "Just hold me like this… and never let go. Okay? Just... don't ever let go. And now give me the drink."
Her voice was soft, sultry in its vulnerability, and it melted into the night like a whispered wish.
Sif sat down across from the two, saying nothing. She simply stared into the crackling flames of the fire, her eyes fierce but unfocused, as if searching for something in the depths of the blaze. Her silence roared louder than the ocean tide behind them, and her heartbeat pounded like war drums within her chest. She didn't understand why she hadn't stood and left yet.
William chuckled, his tone warm with amusement. "Alright, alright, you little wine-thief. I'll let you have another drink." He reached into the supplies beside him and pulled out a green-labeled bottle. "Here. Just for you."
He handed her a cold bottle of Sprite, the fizz already dancing up the neck.
Jane blinked, squinted at it, then took a swig… and immediately coughed it out in surprise, spraying the grass. "Blegh! What is this? This wine tastes so weird."
William raised his eyebrows innocently, though a smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "It's a new kind of wine—exotic. Acquired taste, you know? You just have to let it grow on you. Drink slowly."
Jane tilted her head, suspicious, but her affection for him made her trusting. She leaned deeper into his chest, murmuring dreamily, "You better not be lying to me again… you big, tricky liar..."
She chuckled softly and slurred, "My head's all floaty. I think I want to sleep... Just a little nap... right here..."
And with that, she wrapped both arms around William's waist and slumped against him, her blonde hair cascading down across his chest. Her breath slowed as she drifted off to sleep with a dreamy smile on her lips.
William blinked and looked down at her. "Hey—Jane? Now? Seriously?" He let out a long sigh and muttered to himself, "You couldn't wait five minutes? I haven't even started with Sif yet. This was supposed to be my glorious moment…"
He attempted to gently pry her off. "Jane, come on... I'll get you a nice mat, something softer than my ribcage."
"Mmm... no," Jane murmured, clinging to him. "I... I want to sleep in your arms... so warm... like hugging the sun..."
William looked at the stars as if asking them for help. "You're killing me here, woman."
A blue plush, oversized teddy bear materialized in his hand from seemingly nowhere. With the skill of a man who'd practiced deceit like an art form, he gently slid her arms away and swapped in the bear.
"Mmm... don't leave..." Jane murmured, hugging the toy. "So soft... You smell different, but you're still warm..."
She let out a soft snore. William stood and wiped the invisible sweat from his forehead.
"Sleep tight, my little sunshine. I'll come back for you," he whispered dramatically, then turned with a grin toward the fire where Sif still sat.
Now it was time to dance with the Warrior Goddess of Asgard.
"Sif," William said cheerfully, sauntering toward her, "You have an impressive alcohol tolerance. Come on, let's keep this little party going."
Sif didn't look at him. Her face was bathed in firelight, her expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable—something she wouldn't admit to, not even to herself.
"I thought you'd be too busy trying to undress Jane with your eyes and whatever twisted plan you've got in that head of yours," she said flatly.
"Look at you," William said, sitting beside her, pretending to be wounded. "You think so little of me."
She turned sharply, eyes narrowing. "I think exactly what you show me. I see through you, William. You think you're clever—charming, even—but you're just... an arrogant fool."
"And yet," he said with a crooked smile, "You're still sitting here."
Sif stiffened. Her fingers clenched around the stem of her wine glass. "Don't mistake my alignments for interest."
"No mistake," William said, pouring another drink, "Just hopeful optimism. Drink?"
"I'm not afraid of your stupid little tricks. You want to get me drunk? I've drunk warriors twice your size under the table."
"I believe it," William said with an admiring nod. "You're a force of nature, Sif. The kind of woman who could kill a man in a single breath... or steal his heart without realizing."
"Spare me," she growled, but her cheeks flushed despite herself.
William grinned wider. "Just saying. I'm an honest man."
"You're a greedy little bastard who wants everything. Jane's heart. My dignity. A feast, a bed, and two women to share it with." Her voice was venom, but her eyes flickered with something more complex.
"Don't forget the wine," William added, raising his glass.
"You're disgusting," Sif said.
"Then why are you still here?"
Silence stretched between them like a taut bowstring. The fire crackled. The ocean murmured in the distance.
Sif grabbed the cup and downed the red wine in one smooth motion.
"I don't lose to cowards."
William raised his brows in approval. "Now that is the spirit of the Asgardian Goddess."
Sif rolled her eyes as William reached into his supply again. "Red wine's too tame. How about something that actually bites back?"
He presented three bottles of Chinese liquor—Moutai. The heavy scent wafted through the air as he uncorked one. The alcohol content practically shimmered in the night air.
"Moutai," William said, pouring into two cups. "Sixty percent. Not for the faint of heart."
"Pfft," Sif said, unimpressed. "Water."
"You sure?" He handed her the cup.
She glared at him. "You think you can cloud my mind with a few tricks and cheap liquor. I've fought frost giants and survived the void. If this is your plan, it's pathetic."
William smirked. "Then you won't mind proving it."
She threw the entire cup back like it was nothing. The firelight shimmered in her eyes as the potent alcohol hit her system. She didn't flinch.
William clapped. "Brilliant! I'm in the presence of a Goddess. I should feel honored."
Sif turned her head, looking away. "You're still an idiot. And you're still not getting what you want."
"Not yet," William murmured, mostly to himself, lifting his cup to meet hers in the firelight.
William's eyes turned, it seems that red wine can't deal with Sif, "Hahaha, how could I have the idea of getting you drunk? You think too much. Eat, eat, don't waste it.."
"Are you a pig?" Sif looked at William, who was gnawing on pheasants. William had eaten twelve hares, fourteen pheasants, and eight one-meter-long fish..
"Life is about eating and drinking, and people can't treat their stomachs badly," William smiled and said.
He could see it now—the fire in her eyes, the heat on her cheeks. Anger. Pride. And something else she wouldn't name. Something older. Something hidden.
A dangerous game.
And William was all in.