We kept drinking. The bottles emptied slowly, the amber liquid catching the dim light as Alaric poured us glass after glass.
Our banter grew lazier, our voices softer, slipping between memories and jokes. Sometimes we said nothing at all, just sat there with the noise of the bar around us, two men who had been through too much and still found themselves side by side.
At some point I leaned back, closing my eyes for a heartbeat. The warmth of the alcohol had seeped deep into my limbs, making everything softer.
Alaric was humming something under his breath, off-key and ridiculous. The book sat between us, its pages slightly open like a secret waiting to be told.
By the time we stood, the room tilted faintly under my feet. Alaric stumbled first, catching himself on the edge of the table and laughing like a boy.
I shook my head and stepped away from the chair, the weight of the night pressing down on me but not in an unpleasant way.
